Purification
by Brillant
Summary: On her twenty first birthday, Hermione finds out some news that turns her whole world upside down. HG/DM. Au. Now complete!
1. One

_Author's note: This is my first attempt at a multi-chaptered fic. I just got this idea and ran with it. I'm really sorry if this story is too similar to anyone's; i haven't done it intentionally. I would like comments, whether they're flames or praise, because i need to be able to improve my writing! Thanks! Oh, if you haven't been living under a rock for the past however many years, you'll already know that Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling and not me, i can only wish. sniff. _

_Update: I recently made the decision to edit and improve this fic - making the chapters longer, putting some together and tweaking grammatical and spelling mistakes! The actual plot and all of the content hasn't changed - i've just improved and tweaked some of the structural errors! This first chapter is now chapters one and two of the old story put together._

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Anyone who knew Hermione Granger knew that, in the face of trouble, she always managed to maintain her composure and keep calm. It was a trait which made her the most useful of the Golden Trio; she gave Harry a calm head, and made sure that Ron didn't lose complete concentration. It was often said that, without the sensibility of Hermione Granger, The Boy Who Lived would not have done so the second time around. Unfortunately, however, upon the occasion of her twenty first birthday, Hermione discovered something that threatened to completely destroy her well-known poise. The truth was, the famous muggle born companion of Harry Potter was, in fact, a pureblood.

Hermione stared at her parents who sat opposite her, wearing matching apologetic smiles. She didn't thank them very kindly for their timing nor their delivery; blurting it out over the kitchen table at dinner wasn't exactly the kindest way to discover that your entire life had been a lie. Hermione's parents were both aghast at the reaction that followed; they had never seen her so emotional about anything, and it was quite a shock when the table toppled over without so much as a shove or a flick of a wand. Hermione opened her mouth and shut it again, and she knew that she looked remarkably stupid, but what else could she do? Words seemed to fail her. All she really wanted to do was, very childishly, stick her fingers in her ears and scream "la la la" until her parents chose to leave her alone.

"Oh Hermione darling, please say _something_." Her mother pleaded; her eyes were a little blurry with welling tears, at which Hermione openly scoffed.

"I can't believe that you expect me to accept all of this so easily! It was such a shock to me, at the age of eleven, to discover that I was a witch. And then to go through the whole of my education with people wondering how I was so capable, when all I had were two silly muggle dentists for parents! Don't you ever think how much easier it would have been, for all of us, if I'd known the truth?"

"Of course!" Her father said sadly, shaking his head. "It was so hard, watching you struggle with the prejudice that was directed towards you! But it was for your own safety."

"My _safety_? I don't understand." Mrs Granger looked nervously over to her husband.

"Well, when you were born…Voldermort was just starting to stir his troops properly and we were worried. Our connections, our blood status…everything was pointing him in our direction, and we simply didn't want to be involved. The ministry was offering a service, albeit a very hushed up one, to some pureblood families who felt they were in danger, they integrated us into the muggle world with no little trouble, and we became the Grangers."

Hermione let out a shaky sigh and clenched her fists. She was trying her very best to summon every scrap of composure she had, but it was certainly difficult when faced with her parents. Up until then, they had only irritated her as far as ordinary parents irritated ordinary children, but now they infuriated her like no one else had ever done before. It was almost as if the people that sat before her then were completely different to the ones that had been there for the previous 21 years of her life. Suddenly, it struck her that something was particularly odd about what her mother had just said.

"_Became_the Grangers? What do you mean by that? Isn't it our name?"

"No," Mr Granger responded hurriedly, "My real name is Felix Giles Divitis, and your mother's name is Wilhelmina Divitis. We didn't want to change your name, so it is Hermione Jean Divitis."

Hermione made a sound that almost sounded like a cat being wounded. She balled her hands into fists, digging her nails into the palms of her hands, before letting out a shuddering sigh.

"I don't want a different name. My name is Hermione Granger, no matter how much you claim otherwise. Do you have _any _idea how difficult this will make my life? As if I hadn't had enough problems with the press and the ministry – now you add another lot of complications to the already speedily mounting pile!" She was screeching now, she knew, but hysteria was quickly overriding whatever sense of self-control she had previously had.

"I know darling, I know!" Mrs Granger said. "But we never expected back then that things would be quite so…well…complex. The only thing I can suggest is that you go to bed and get a little shut-eye."

"Yes, you need to prepare for tomorrow."

"Tomorrow." Hermione stated blankly. "Would you care to explain what's happening tomorrow, or will I have to wait until my thirtieth birthday to find that out?"

"Well, we have to make it official that we've returned, you see, so we'll be going to the ministry of magic tomorrow. Just to get our affairs in order; retrieve our wands and the keys to our Gringotts accounts, that sort of thing." Her mother said. "You'll be coming with us, as we'll have a press release to make."

"A press release?" It was almost as if they hadn't been listening to a word she had said. If there was anything that Hermione had grown to hate, it was the bloody press. Rita Skeeter and her gaggle of notoriously vicious paparazzi had firmly settled the notion in Hermione's mind, that not one newspaper was worthy of her time. Not even the Quibbler, however much Luna liked to claim otherwise; they were just as bad at printing salacious gossip and unfounded rumours. "I refuse to go to a press release."

"But you must!" Her mother gasped. "Darling, don't you _understand_? We were amongst the top wizarding families – Divitis is a famous name, you know! We were celebrities, known all over the world. It was a great tragedy when we went missing, and it is our duty to let the world know we're back." Hermione felt sick to her stomach. She'd heard such dross before, heard it coming directly from the mouth of her greatest enemy.

"That…you sound like the Malfoys!" She shuddered. "Why must I go through this? No one really cares about _me_, not anymore! Can't I just carry on being Hermione Granger, _out _of the spotlight?"

"No. I'm afraid we must present an image of unity – we need you to re-establish our place in society, Hermione."

"I can't believe this!" She growled angrily. "I can't believe you didn't tell me sooner! Why did you keep it a secret for so long?"

Her mother smiled somewhat sadly, before giving a nonchalant shrug.

"You've been rather busy, dear, fighting the man that we ran away from!"

That did it really, tipped her over the edge. She stood up quickly, putting her hands angrily on her hips. She _had _been fighting Lord Voldemort; she _had _been faced with a fierce enemy, thinking that she was a mudblood, only having a limited knowledge of the wizarding world. Her parents had been powerful, by the sounds of things, and they had run away. Where was the justice in that?

"That should make you even more ashamed." She spat, before turning and leaving the room. She made sure to slam the door behind her, even if it was rather adolescent of her.

As she led on her bed, surrounded by her cuddly toys and boy band posters from childhood, Hermione felt as though she could scream. Of all the places Hermione had expected herself to be on the evening of her birthday, it was not her childhood bedroom. Despite all of her hard work and determination, despite working her way through the ranks of the ministry whilst fighting prejudice along the way, had she really fallen back so far to spend the night there? It seemed that she had. And tomorrow she would fall even further and embarrass herself in front of the whole of the wizarding world. What would her friends think? Would it make any difference to them? She hoped it wouldn't for she had, after all, not truly changed. Hermione gave a frustrated sigh, as she fingered the lace on the edge of her quilt. She had always had the utmost respect for her parents, but having found out their reason for deserting their life in the wizarding world, she had lost it. It disappointed and angered her to hear that because her parents were "of noble stock" they managed to find a way to escape the terror that was Voldermort, and Harry's parents had been offered nothing, but left to their imminent death. Tiredness flooded her then, and she couldn't take the constant whirring of her brain. She had too many thoughts in her head, too many questions. Her eyes fluttered closed and she allowed sleep to overtake her. Tomorrow would no doubt, be difficult.

It truly was as horrific as she had been expecting it to be.

Her mother had burst into her bedroom, shaking her awake with an over-excited grin on her face. Hermione had tried her very hardest to wriggle her way out of going to the ministry, but her mum was determined. Thankfully, she managed to push her out of her bedroom whilst she got dressed, but it didn't stop her from shouting criticism and tips through the door.

"Hermione! Hermione hurry up, we don't want to be late! I hope you're looking nice because you will be in front of the whole wizarding press and we have an impression to make! I –"

Hermione walked into the sitting room wearing a pale pink summer dress and a simple pair of heels. She looked at her mother and her father, nodded curtly and then at down on the sofa. Her mother was looking at herself anxiously in the mirror and sighing. "I look so old, now, I'm sure no-one will be able to recognise me!"

"Oh mother!" Hermione snapped, "Can't we just get it over and done with, _please_?" Her patience was becoming thinner by the second. She could barely contain her irritation as her mother looked at her reflection in the mirror, and her father seemed to be mumbling to himself as though practicing a speech. Her father walked over to the fireplace clutching Hermione's Floo powder bag.

"A jolly good idea, come along Wil, Herm." Scowling at her father, she snatched a handful of the powder, threw it into the fire and practically screamed "Ministry of magic!"

Gracefully, she landed in the beautifully tiled hall of the ministry, which was bustling with people. She had had to request a day off that day, and she only imagined how awkward it was going to be when she turned up in the office, the very office that she worked in every single day, for a meeting with the man who employed her. She gave a frustrated sigh and rubbed her eyes, ignoring the thudding noise behind her that announced the arrival of her parents. She turned around to find them in a pile on the floor in front of the fireplace. Clambering to his feet, Felix was groaning.

"I haven't done that in such a long time!" He offered a hand to his wife, who was dusting off her clothes. "Now if I remember rightly, the department we need is on the fortieth floor. Is that right Herm?"

"Yes." Ignoring them, she tore off across the hall and skipped nimbly into the elevator, letting the doors close on her hurrying parents. She rested her head against the back wall of the lift and gave a sigh; it was a small victory, but it gave her a sufficient amount of satisfaction to see her parents left behind.

Her satisfaction was short lived as, by some bizarre stroke of luck, her parents were already at the main desk when she arrived. She looked at them quizzically, but didn't say a word, choosing to go straight up to the desk and speak to the man who was snoring in to a mug of coffee.

"Mundungus." She said, "Mundungus!" Growing irritated, she reached out and began to shake him. Even though she did this every single day, without it being any _particular _frustration, that morning it almost made her scream. Mundungus looked up at her blearily, his eyes bloodshot and his face covered in a dull shadow of stubble. He stank of some putrid cologne or another.

"Wha'? Wha'!" He frowned. "Hermione? What the bloody 'ell are you doing here?"

She chose to ignore his question, and instead folded her arms testily.

"What sort of impression are you making, sleeping at the desk? Honestly, Mundungus, I got this job for you, and you show your gratitude by falling asleep?"

"I don't remember ever asking you for a job, so I don't have anything to be grateful for!"

"Whatever; now is not the time to have this argument." She sighed. "We have an appointment with Zachary Joss, I know where his office is, obviously, but I just thought I'd clear it up with you." Mundungus straightened his ugly brown bow tie, and stared at her.

"One minute, didn't you take the day off?"

"Yes! Just…just sort it out please." The man waved his wand lazily, conjuring a piece of parchment. Pulling a face, he looked at Hermione and then at the paper.

"This here says that Mr Joss has an appointment with someone called Divitis. You're called Granger." Hermione felt her stomach turn, and the urge to run away overcame her. Instead, she stood up taller. She could _do _this; she had the bravery, she had the courage. She was a Gryffindor!

"No, Hermione Divitis. And these are my parents, Felix and…and Wilhelmina. Please, just take us to Zachary, you can ask questions later."

The office in which she sat was grim and unremarkable; the walls were plain, the material on the chairs made of a grey itchy fabric. Her own office, which was just one door down, was much more colourful and welcoming; but then, Zachary always preferred to keep his office business-like. Hermione's role within the department was possibly the most important, behind Zachary of course; she spent a lot of her working time speaking to the muggle prime minister, and sorting out paper work to integrate members of the wizarding world into that of the muggles. It was peculiar, to think that her parents' papers had once passed through this very office. She wondered what she would have done, if she'd ever come across them. But then was not the time to think about it. Hermione looked up from her knees then, and her eyes met those of the friendly, but dull, man whom she worked with every day.

"I must say that this is a bit of a shock…" he stated; his northern origin was present in his accent. "I had no idea that you…that…well, I'll just get your paperwork." He pointed his wand at his throat. "Mundungus! Get the Divitis paperwork in here, NOW!"  
Hermione sighed, knowing that the paperwork would not arrive for a good few minutes. Zachary's face flushed red and he put his wand to his neck once more, "Mundungus! I WILL fire you!" With a pop, the parchment appeared.

"Good, now we can get started. There isn't really much to say, other than welcome back! Of course, all the necessary documents will be taken from the muggle government in due course…" He shot a look at Hermione; that would be her job, no doubt, at some point that week. "And they should then be moved back to our files. You'll find your wands that have been stored for you on the desk when you leave, and you can move back in to your estate tomorrow. Your key for your Gringotts vault will be with your wands too. As for Miss Gr…Miss Divitis, your last name has been changed on all paperwork. I do believe that the wizarding world has sent out all of its best reporters, and they're waiting for you in the lobby. Have the day off tomorrow, Bossy; I'll get Mariella to put your paperwork through. Bye."

Mr and Mrs Divitis were positively giddy as they took the elevator back down to the lobby. Hermione just stood huffily at the back, her arms folded and a scowl fixed on her face. At one point, however, she had to use her wand to put out a fire that her mother had accidentally conjured; needless to say, she wasn't pleased. Hermione could feel the elevator juddering to a halt, and winced as the woman's voice rang out announcing their arrival in the lobby.

"Now dear, put on a big smile and remember to look happy! Alright?" The doors slid open, and Hermione's eyes were affronted with the flashing of hundreds of cameras, all wanting a picture of her.

"How does it feel, Hermione, to know that your whole life has been a lie?"

"Did you miss the wizarding world Mrs Divitis?"

"Why didn't you tell anyone that you were going away?"

Hermione didn't answer anyone; she just let her mother take over. Instead, she stood still with a small fake smile on her face. All she really wanted to do was run away, but it would be easier to comply. For now.


	2. Two

_Author's Note: This is the edited and updated version of chapters three and four of the old story, brought together into one chapter!_

After the furore of that day, Hermione was certainly not in the mood for a birthday party – especially not her own. An old song that her mother used to sing to her came into her mind; 'it's my party and I'll cry if I want to' was certainly fitting for how she felt at that moment, standing at the entrance of the marquee that she had hired. Dumbledore had given her special permission to host her party in the grounds of Hogwarts, for she hadn't been able to find a big enough space anywhere else. Hermione folded her arms and gave a frustrated sigh; all she really wanted was to go to her little London flat and curl up with a vat of ice cream. Strawberry ice cream, to be precise, accompanied by multiple bottles of rosé. She was snapped out of her fantasising by the approach of Bill and Fleur, along with their three year old son Francois who looked rather uncomfortable in the robes that he'd been stuffed into. Fleur leant forwards and kissed both of Hermione's cheeks in her typically flamboyant style.

"I was very surprised to 'ear zee news, zees afternoon! I cannot believe zat your parents 'ave been away from ze wizarding world zees long, and zat you are one of ze famous Divitis family! You are very privileged you know, 'Ermione. I 'ope you 'ave a good soiree." Fleur hurried inside the marquee, bustling Francois along impatiently. Bill nodded at her and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Thanks for inviting us, Hermione! The rest of the rabble should be here soon, I think. Mum's not talked about anything else for weeks!

Hermione waited a further fifteen minutes for the arrival of the rest of the Weasley clan and, by the time she saw the large group of redheads winding their way up the hill, she was ready to snap. Her temper had truly been tried by her parents, and the presence of so many friends and acquaintances wasn't making her feel any better. Molly and Arthur were leading the group, and Molly dragged her into a warm embrace when they got there.

"Oh dear, you must be absolutely shook up! What news to receive on your birthday! It doesn't mean a thing to us you know, not a thing! Although, Arthur is a little upset that they're not _really_muggles. Oh, your mother's over there! I've got a lovely knitting spell that I'm sure she'll appreciate!" Hermione was relieved that Molly had been distracted, and even managed to crack a smile as Arthur chased after his wife. The younger members of the family stood in front of her then, including Harry. They hesitated before stepping forward, which only seemed to increase Hermione's foul mood.

"I don't bite you know!" She snapped, "Why are you so late?" She couldn't help but snap at them. Surely her, her friends, should have arrived before everyone else? She didn't want to think about it really, but instead chose to listen to Harry's bashful explanation.

"There's loads of photographers and stuff stood outside the gate; it's a nightmare getting through, especially when they all want an interview or a bloody picture."

Hermione felt her cheeks burn, and she instantly regretted being so angry at her friends. The gathering crowds weren't exactly their fault, after all.

"Oh…I see…" She gave a hesitant sigh. Sooner or later they would have to address what had happened that day, and then seemed as good a time as any other. "Listen, I – "

"Save it." It was Ron who spoke; his words clipped and cold. Hermione looked at him to see that he was scowling at her angrily, the tips of his ears turning red as the seconds passed. Harry and Ginny also turned to look at him; Ginny looked concerned, whereas Harry merely looked furious. "I don't know why you're acting like everything's normal! Aren't you going to kick us out because we're poor blood traitors now?" He shook his head then and turned to Ginny, shrugging his shoulder as though in defeat. "I don't know why I even bothered. I'm going home." Hermione watched with horror as he turned on his heels and left.

"I don't understand…" Hermione gaped. "Do you all feel this way?"

"Of course not!" Ginny replied, stepping forwards and giving her a hug. "You know what Ron's like, everything just takes time, that's all. Come on, let's go inside!"

As the hours passed, it became more and more evident that everyone was enjoying the party but her. Ginny was slow dancing with Harry, Neville was engaged in what seemed to be a lively chat with Viktor Krum, Fleur was drifting around the dance floor with Francois, Fred and George were letting off fireworks, and the other Weasleys were catching up with one another. Hagrid was more than merry, Dumbledore was picking interestedly at the food, and her friends from work were all gathered in the corner. Hermione sat watching them all with a bitter feeling in her stomach; she was so down about her recent news, and it was casting a shadow over everything else. She'd been so looking forward to this party. As she let out a sigh, she felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Harry smiling at her. She hadn't notice him leave Ginny, and so was surprised.

"Are you alright?" He asked, taking the empty seat next to her. Concern was etched across his face.

"Of course I'm not." She whispered. "How would you feel if you were in my position?"

"Mad, frustrated, lonely. Is that how you feel?"

"Yes. It's just…you understand, don't you?"

"Well…sort of, although…well…not really. I can understand how you're not very happy with your parents, but you can't let that get you down. Nothing's changed, Hermione."

She snorted in disbelief.

"Oh really? So what was all that with Ron about then?"

"You know what he's like; he can be a complete idiot sometimes. He'll come round eventually, only…"

"What?" Harry looked around anxiously, but then shook his head.

"Nothing. It doesn't matter to us if you're pureblood, half-blood, muggle or troll! To the people who matter, your blood is completely insignificant." Hermione smiled properly for the first time in what felt like years.

"Really Harry? You mean that?"

"Of course I do!" Hermione stood up and gave Harry a massive hug. She realised that it didn't matter what everyone else felt about her; as long as her closest friends were okay, she was too. "Now come and dance with me and Gin! It'll be much more fun than sitting in a corner!"

After a few dances, Hermione was suddenly surrounded by her friends who were cat-calling and begging for a speech.

"Come on!" Fred shouted, grinning. "We usually can't shut you up, so why should today be any different?" Everyone laughed.

"Yeah! We want a speech!" George added.

Hermione nervously stood up and looked around at the room with a bashful smile.

"Well…um, first of all I would like to thank you all for coming, and for how supportive you have all been following…well the press release this morning. It really means a lot to me that my blood doesn't matter to any of you! I also want to take this opportunity to apologise to my parents for my bad reaction…I still don't fully understand your reasons, but I'm beginning to. I love you, and I thank you for giving me these twenty one years of a fabulous life! Finally I would like to – "

Hermione stopped suddenly, as a small commotion by the door distracted her attention. She gaped in horror as the people, who had clearly been trying to get into the party uninvited, moved out into the middle of the dance floor.

"What do you think you're doing?" She shouted, her eyes wide in horror. "This is a private party! What right do you have to come in here?"

A few guests made moves to eject them from the party, but Hermione's mother suddenly leapt to her feet and rushed forwards with a delighted cry. Hermione's heart was beating so loudly that she was surprised no one else could hear it. She felt ill too, especially as her mother embraced one of the party-crashers.

"Cissy! Oh Cissy, is that really you?"

Hermione couldn't quite believe it as her father too stepped forwards, a wide smile on his face. He took the hand of the tall, sneering blonde man and shook it warmly.

"Lucius, old chap! It's been such a terribly long time!"

All Hermione could do was gape at them, but on the inside she was screaming.

Even though she had been there for a good two hours, Hermione could still not believe that she was sat in the Malfoy Manor, drinking Firewhiskey in the afternoon and listening to the idle chit-chat as if it was all normal. Her parents, it seemed, were exceedingly good friends with the Malfoys _before_. That surprised Hermione most of all, especially as her parents had fled to escape Voldemort; hadn't they realised that their dearest friends were well within his circles? She supposed it hadn't mattered though for, now, one might have believed that there had never been a war at all. With a sigh, Hermione tapped her foot on the carpeted floor in a steady rhythm; looking about the place, she realised that it was different to how she would have expected it to be. There were no heavy tapestries, no dark greens or oak, it was all light, airy and undeniably beautiful. At that very moment, her mother was commenting on the décor too.

"It really is lovely, Cissy." She said gushingly, sighing as thought it were the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Lucius leant back in his chair and smirked.

"It bloody well should be, I spent a fortune on it!" He drawled.

They all laughed, and Hermione looked up to see them looking at her. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, especially when Narcissa leant forward and touched her hand. For some reason, Hermione felt as though the blonde was calculating something, inspecting her as though she were an antique in a shop.

"I'm so sorry about everything, Hermione dear." She said sweetly. "If only we'd know who you are! All of those…distasteful events could have been avoided!"

"It shouldn't have been that way in the first place; there should have been no 'distasteful events' involving _anybody_. Whether they be pureblood, half-blood or muggle born." Hermione scowled in Lucius' direction, but he merely smiled as though she had said something funny.

"Never mind all that now! There's no need to drag up miseries from the past! But you know, Cissy had always suspected that perhaps you weren't muggle born as we thought. Your school results certainly told of a talent in magic that _couldn't _belong to a muggle born!"

"And your general manner…" Narcissa added. "Well, you are certainly too poised to be the offspring of _muggles_!"

Hermione snorted. This rubbish was making her feel like throwing up those delightful ginger biscuits she'd eaten. How could one person be so vain, pretentious, conceited, arrogant…

"Do you mind if I go for a walk?" She blurted suddenly. She needed to get out of that room before she hexed somebody. Narcissa smiled, clearly ignoring the horror on Hermione's parents' faces, and waved her hand gracefully.

"Of course not! You may do anything you please; our home is your home!"

Once outside, amidst the flowers and the fresh air, Hermione began searching for a way out. She could see the ostentatious gates in the distance, and was debating whether or not to go that way. She highly doubted that you would be able to apparate to and from the Malfoy Manor, and her parents would be outraged if she asked to leave. On her days off, Hermione usually spent all day sat on the sofa in her pyjamas, watching muggle chat shows with a big box of chocolates. That day, however, had been her idea of hell. First, she had been dragged on a shopping spree with her parents, much to her disgust, and had purchased several ghastly dresses which she wouldn't have chosen in a million years. Then, she had been paraded in front of the Malfoys, and that evening they were going to Kent to see the Divitis Manor. In all honesty, Hermione would have chosen chocolate and chat over money and mansions. Trying to be as nonchalant as possible, she wandered past the flowerbeds, dragging her hand through the lavender which had been charmed to last all year long. As she approached the gate, she kicked off her stupid pair of heels and chucked them into a nearby bush; thank god she would never see them again! Now in her stocking feet, she broke in to a run and elegantly leapt over the fence.

Back in the garden Draco Malfoy came to a halt, panting and puffing as he bent over to catch his breath. In his mind, he thought of a dozen curses that he would perform on that stupid mudblood-turned-pureblood when he saw her again. After his parents saw her sprinting, they sent him out to try and stop her. He had protested of course, knowing very well that she wouldn't have listened, but had been forced to go anyway. Venting his frustration, Draco pulled out his wand and set the bush that contained Hermione's shoes on fire. He'd never found flames so satisfying until that moment; he grinned as he watched the silly little witch's shoes burn.

Inside, their parents watched. Narcissa made a disapproving tutting noise and folded her arms. She'd tried very hard over the years, to bring Draco up knowing the proper etiquette; she had _intended _him to be the most charming and elegant bachelor in the whole of the wizarding world but, evidently, her plan had not been a success.

"He's such an obstinate fool!" She hissed, turning to face her friends from her position at the window. "I'm very sorry that he hasn't grown to be very charming, Willy. He won't make a good husband for your daughter at all!"

That was another plan she'd made, along with Wilhelmina too. They'd always intended their firstborns to be married – the Divitis and Malfoy families united would be practically unbreakable in the wizarding world. Narcissa had been content for years, planning their wedding, and then the Divitis family disappeared with their little girl in tow, dashing her plans completely. Narcissa had soon replaced the girl of course, with little Pansy Parkinson, but she just didn't find it as easy; the Parkinsons, after all, would get the Malfoys nowhere. And she did look terribly like a pug. Now, however…well Hermione was back. The wedding could go ahead after all.

"We must do something about their dislike for one another." Wilhelmina said with a sigh. "Hermione is so steadfast in her ways. I don't think I'll be able to persuade her easily."

"We _must_do something about it! What could we possibly do to bring them towards a union that will be more than beneficial for all of us?" Narcissa exclaimed, thumping her bejewelled hand on the chair.

A great smirk spread across Lucius' face as he watched his son shouting profanities in the general direction of the gate.

"A marriage contract." He stated simply, leaning back in his chair. "It hasn't been done in over a hundred years, I must admit, but it will be worthwhile. It will teach Draco not to be so hot-headed, and do the same for your Hermione. We must, after all, think of the children." Narcissa clapped her hands together.

"Delightful idea! Simply wonderful, don't you agree? And…all in the name of our children of course!"

The Divitis' simply raised their glasses with smiles upon their faces.


	3. Three

_Author's Note: This is an edited and improved chapter, including chapters five and six of the old story brought together into one._

Grudgingly, Hermione had to admit that she had enjoyed the rest of the evening – after the mild scolding that she received from her mother, of course. They visited the Divitis Manor, and even Hermione could not deny that it was a lovely house. It was a beautiful eighteenth century building with magnificent furniture and gardens to rival those of the Malfoy Manor. The house even had a lake, and Hermione's father wasted no time in ordering the servants to make sure that it was fully-stocked for fishing. Hermione wandered around the house as though she was Elizabeth Bennet, thoroughly enjoying herself as she looked at the old antiques and the paintings on the walls. But she wished that it really was just a story. Her parents had become unbearable since their transformation; her mother was twice as shrill as she used to be, and her father had become a proper country gentleman. It sickened her to think that, just a month ago, they had been normal dentists living in a normal terraced house in the outskirts of London. She longed for that normalcy, and wanted the wizarding world to return to the way it was before the surprise integration of her parents. Magic had always been a way to get away from them, but now it seemed that they would follow her everywhere.

Happily she returned to work the next day, knowing that Zachary would not let her parents' shocking revelation get in the way. Work was a way for her to truly escape everything; she was excellent at her job, and she loved every aspect of it. Her happiness upon entering the building soon faded, however, when she was bombarded with various questions and, instead of answering them, she had darted straight into her office and locked it unless people had a work-related reason for coming to her. Unfortunately, the day of work ahead of her was not going to be pleasant, with paperwork and three days of mail to sort through. Mid-morning, there came a heavy rap on her door which her spell told her came from Zachary. She let him in, praying that he didn't have a thousand questions for her.

"Are you alright, Bossy?" He asked, in his typically gruff way. Hermione looked up and smiled a little.

"I suppose so. Glad to be back." He laughed throatily, shaking his head at her.

"You've only been away for two days!"

"Yes, but you know how much I love work." Sighing, she screwed up yet another piece of junk mail advertising illegal magic carpets. "We really need to get on to Arthur about this, it's ridiculous."

"Yeah, right, I'll add it to my six-foot-long to-do list shall I? Listen, Granger, I didn't come in here for a social; you have someone here to see you."

"Oh?" Hermione suddenly felt panicked, she couldn't remember organising a meeting for today. "Who?"

"Don't get your knickers in a twist; it's your mate Ron from HR. Shall I let him in?"

"Yes…okay…"

When Ron entered the office, Hermione immediately noted that he looked highly discomfited and slightly nervous; therefore, she deduced that he had come to apologise. She watched him expectantly as he sat uncomfortably in the leather chair. She knew, from years of practice, that she had to be patient.

"Hermione…I…uh, I wanted to apologise for um…the other day. It was really uncalled for, talking to you like that and leaving the party…" Hermione frowned a little and looked at the desk, still sorting through her mail.

"I was really disappointed in you, you know." She replied quietly, looking up at him. "Not only was your behaviour immature, it was narrow-minded too. You've known me since the age of eleven, Ronald, so how could you even _think_that I would desert you because I was suddenly pureblood? That's not me at all." To add emphasis, she slammed a piece of mail on to the desk, causing Ron to jump.

"I know…I know that's not you. I was just…well you know how I get…I act before I think. I…"

Hermione stopped listening as she opened the first piece of mail that was addressed to Hermione J Divitis. As soon as she broke the seal, there was a large puff of emerald smoke. It looked somewhat like a howler, but ever so slightly different.

"What's that?" She was suddenly reminded, rather bluntly, that Ron was still in the room.

"I don't – " Before she could reply, the envelope opened and a familiar snooty voice reverberated around the room. Ron's face turned white, before flushing to a deep and angry red.

"Dearest Hermione, you are cordially invited to a special dinner on Friday evening. We're having a gathering of the young socialites in honour of your return to your people! Every young man and woman who is worth being seen will be there! The dress code will be formal, so wear a ball gown! Draco is very much looking forward to seeing you, and Lucius requests that you bring a bottle of that fabulous Merlot your father drinks! All our love, Narcissa and family. P.S I hope you don't want your shoes back, dearest Draco accidentally set them on fire!"

Hermione stared as the envelope fell to the desk. Ron leapt to his feet, his fists balled and his teeth bared in anger. Hermione wanted to scream and throw things, but instead she kept calm and Ron spoke, his voice dripping with venom

"_Dearest Draco_?" He asked; incredulity spread across his face. "Is that what you call him, too?"

"Of course not…"

"Is he your boyfriend?"

"No! Ron, please, why are you being so - ?"

"Stupid? Yeah, I was stupid to come back here and apologise."

Hermione was positively seething as she sat back and watched Ron storm from the room. He acted as though all of this was her fault, as if she had _wanted_her parents to lie to her or that she liked being the new plaything of the Malfoys. Hermione believed that Ron was, albeit secretly, jealous. He was pureblood, but his family had never been rich enough or popular enough to take any place in society; then along came Hermione who simply walked into that lavish lifestyle without so much as a backward glance. Ron had reacted this way when Harry had been entered into the Triwizard Tournament – he had been too stubborn to realise that it wasn't Harry's fault, and it was the same now. Hermione grabbed a piece of parchment and scribbled a quick and civil RSVP to Narcissa, before picking up her things and flouncing out of her office, snarling at a bemused-looking Zachary as she did.

The old adage "good things come in pairs" had never appealed to Hermione because, in her experience, it was always bad things that came in twos. Her theory was supported when, as she dashed through the lobby, she collided with an agitated-looking Draco Malfoy. She tumbled to the floor with a strangled cry, and wasted no time in verbally shooting him down.

"Is it not enough that your parents seem intent on destroying my friendships, or would you like to break every bone in my body too?" Malfoy sneered at her, before extending a pale white hand.

"I've been looking for you. When I saw Weasley storming out of here, I presumed that you'd received my mother's message." Hermione sniffed haughtily and took his hand, pulling herself from the floor.

"I did, and it was certainly not appreciated. I had thought that the whole point in going to work was to actually _work_, but I guess my friends and family think differently." Draco's sneer just grew as she began dusting herself off. "Why were you looking for me?"

"I have to take you shopping, apparently." Hermione blinked before laughing dryly.

"I beg your pardon?" She was staring at him incredulously. "I'm a grown woman, and so am perfectly capable of picking my own clothes!"

"Alright, save the lecture for someone who cares. My mother thought that you might have some trouble picking something suited for pureblood high-society. She also thought it would be a good idea to teach you a little bit about etiquette as," He looked as though he wanted to be sick. "I'm apparently your escort." Hermione groaned and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"When did you want to go? I have paperwork to do and…" She didn't have time to finish her sentence, because he had clasped her wrist and the pair of them disapparated.

Side-along apparation had never been fun for Hermione, and she certainly disliked it as she collided with the ground for the second time in ten minutes. Malfoy let go of her hand quickly and wiped it on his thigh, before sneering down at her. She clambered to her feet and glared at him, her face flushed with anger.

"What do you think you're _doing_? I would have been more accommodating had you simply _told_me when and where we were going." Throughout her speech, Draco simply stood there inspecting his nails. They had landed on the front lawn of a very beautiful and old manor house that was not too dissimilar from Malfoy Manor. The foliage in the garden was lovely, and Hermione felt just a little guilty about having squashed a flowerbed.

"Have you quite finished?" Draco asked. "Good, we can get on with what we're here to do." He stomped off towards the front door, leaving Hermione trailing behind him.

The hallway was bustling with people and house elves, and it was only thanks to Malfoy's blonde hair that she managed to spot which way he was going. She dodged one of the house elves carrying a long ream of material, and apologised to an irritated looking witch wearing a fuchsia turban. Hermione finally caught up with Malfoy as he stood in front of a door and knocked on it twice, the door opened and he stepped inside.

"Pansy!" He cried, holding his arms out. Hermione recoiled as the pug-faced witch ran into his arms and gave him a welcoming hug.

"Draco, we've been expecting the both of you for an hour! Where have you been? Come in, we've got pink champagne!" Draco was ushered forwards and Hermione followed a little dumbstruck, until Pansy focused her attentions towards her.

"Hermione, I know we've had our differences, but that's before we knew all about you. We have to work together in the form of a common adversary and, trust me, Narcissa's dinners are positively terrifying. Draco, pour her a drink. We'll need to loosen this one up before we practice our etiquette skills!"

Two glasses of the bubbly beverage later, and Hermione was certainly loosened up – she had never had a very high threshold for drink. Pansy had sent everyone out until there were only four people left: her, Crabbe, Draco and Hermione. They gathered by a double door that opened into a dining room, and Pansy began her explanation of the proper way to enter a dining room.

"Alright, so when we go into dinner Lucius will go first with Draco's grandmother, the rest of the guests will follow and then Narcissa will come at the back with Draco's grandfather. You will place your hand in the crook of Draco's left arm and proceed in to the dining room; then you will take a seat to his left. Sit down and remove your gloves." They then began to follow the instructions she had just given. Hermione found it all very amusing, especially when Pansy told her that she mustn't laugh "too boisterously"; she was certainly in danger of that when Crabbe began to lick his knife and Pansy chided him.

"Honestly, Vincent! You have been having etiquette lessons since the age of three and yet your behaviour is simply Neanderthal! Think what Narcissa would say should she see you do that." Hermione's stifled snort gained her a malicious Malfoy glare.

After the dinner, the males and females parted ways through separate doors. Hermione was glad to see Malfoy go, although she wasn't too pleased with the idea of being alone with Pansy. They went into a small room in which every surface was covered with a gown of some form. Pansy was beaming, but Hermione felt nauseous at the sight of some of them – a particularly garish canary yellow number stood out the most.

"At pureblood dinner parties we always wear formal attire. All of these dresses have been chosen by Narcissa and your mother, who will be along shortly to see which one you've chosen." Pansy suddenly flashed a dazzling smile and motioned to them. "You can start with whichever you choose. Try them on in there."

After an hour of trying on dresses, Hermione finally settled on a burgundy Edwardian-style gown with a pair of black silk gloves. She tried it on for Pansy, who instantly began fussing over jewellery and hairstyles.

"You would look simply darling with a feather in your hair, wouldn't you agree?" Hermione made a non-committal "hmm" noise, as the door behind them opened.

"If it's Draco – keep out!" The door opened further and Narcissa and Wilhelmina walked into the room.

"My darling girl looks all grown up!" the brunette lady said, kissing Hermione on either cheek.

"That's because I am." Hermione snapped; her voice icy. Narcissa breezed forward and inspected the girl; she nodded appreciatively and pinched her cheek.

"Draco has a cravat which will match perfectly. You'll certainly make a splash on your first foray into society." Narcissa stood behind her and looked at her reflection in the mirror. "She'll look lovely in ivory." Hermione noticed a wry smile on her mother's face.

"What do you mean?" Wilhelmina shook her head, still smiling.

"Nothing, Hermione. Now hurry up and get changed, Draco's waiting to take you home."

Draco looked positively fuming when Hermione finally came out of the room. He yanked his hands out of his pockets and walked to meet her.

"Finally!" He extended his hand towards her and Hermione took it somewhat testily. For some reason, his very presence was irritating her. They disapparated, and this time Hermione managed to land on her feet. They were on the landing outside of her small flat, and Hermione suddenly felt very awkward. Malfoy looked at her levelly, as she unlocked the door. He followed her into the flat and flopped down onto her sofa.

"Sit down." She huffed indignantly but sat down anyway.

"What do you want? You invite yourself into my flat and then proceed to order me around, so what you have to say had better be good." Malfoy glared at her.

"I want to give you some advice, Miss Divitis. You're new to pureblood society, and I feel that no one has been frank with you so far. However, I will try to address that."

"What must you advise me about? I've learnt all about manners at the dining table, I know what is polite to talk about and I can deal with all of the curtseying. Your advice isn't necessary."

"It isn't about the etiquette; it's about your acquaintances. I'm suggesting that you try and make as many friends as possible at my mother's dinner. Your acquaintance with Pansy is certainly one that needs to be maintained, but other friendships would be beneficial too. Your current associates are simply not fitting for a lady of your station." Hermione leapt to her feet in rage, her hands balled into fists.

"How dare you? We aren't in the 18th century anymore! I don't need to socialise and work my way through society; I'm perfectly happy with the friends that I have! You're nothing but a bigoted, arrogant and supercilious _snob_!" Malfoy stood up too, towering over her with his teeth bared.

"Trust me, the further immersed into our culture you get, the more you'll find that your friends just don't fit. Potter is too arrogant and self-righteous to educate himself about a society that he has a place in, and the Weasleys turned their backs on it ages ago." Malfoy shrugged his shoulder nonchalantly. "Arthur Weasley inherited the house that we went to this afternoon, but he sold it during the first war and put the profits into the pockets of the Order. They turned their backs on tradition, so we turned ours on them. If you don't want the same thing to happen to your parents, you had better reconsider your ideas. I'm leaving now, but I will come and collect you at 4pm on Friday. Good evening, Miss Divitis."

He bowed, but Hermione did not curtsey back. She did not care what he said; nothing could make her turn her back on her friends.


	4. Four

Friday arrived far too quickly for Hermione's taste.

Amidst working, trying to repair her friendship with Ron and handling the press, she also had to deal with the sporadic interruptions of her mother. With her newfound apparation skills, Wilhelmina Divitis visited her daughter twice a day and usually at an inopportune time. On Thursday evening, Hermione had been having a bath when a gentle pop and a quiet squeal alerted her to her mother's presence in the bathroom.

"Hermione! Imagine if it had been Draco who apparated in here, he would have seen you without any clothes on!" Hermione scowled from the bath.

"He wouldn't have seen anything, because my wards won't let him in. He is the last person that I want in my flat." Hermione's mother clucked her tongue.

"That is no way to treat your new friend! Narcissa told me how Draco tried to help you by giving you a piece of advice, he's a sweetheart don't you think?" Hermione snorted.

"If by sweet you mean pernicious and snide."

"He's so handsome too." Hermione looked at her mother blankly, before telling her to turn around as she climbed out of the bath.

The pair of them moved into the sitting room, Hermione in a violet fluffy dressing gown. They sat down and Wilhelmina smiled pleasantly at the flat.

"It's so small here. Wouldn't you like to move in with us? You'll be closer to Draco."

"Why on earth would I want to be _closer_to him? Correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought I'd been giving out the impression that I dislike him." Hermione's mother shook her head and took her daughter's hand.

"Darling, you have to try a little bit harder with him. Tomorrow evening you will have to act as though you are enjoying every second of his company, and I'm sure in time you actually will! He is very nice, if you just give him a chance." Hermione frowned suspiciously.

"What is going on, mother?" She asked. "This whole situation has been bizarre and hasty, but I still get the feeling that you aren't telling me something. Why do you keep forcing us together?" Her mother looked distant for a moment, before beaming at her.

"You do talk nonsense sometimes! I just want you to get along with Draco; it would do you good to have a friend who is well-versed on the ins and outs of pureblood life. Everything I do is for your own benefit, darling, just remember that." She kissed her daughter's forehead, before disapparating with a pop.

Draco came to pick her up promptly at four, when he took her to Malfoy Manor to change. Narcissa was breezing around the house, looking every inch the serene lady of the manor; Hermione couldn't help but wonder if, one day, she would be required to do the same. She shoved the notion out of her head and began preparing herself for the gruelling night ahead. The party guests soon began to arrive, and she was introduced to them by a very unaffected Malfoy who smiled pleasantly at everyone. She was astounded by his actions, and made no hesitation in saying so.

"It's manners." He said simply. "I loathe half of the people that my mother has invited, and yet I am able to act civilly towards them. It's all because of manners."

Hermione rolled her eyes and smiled politely at a goblin that was looking at her rather peculiarly. Malfoy led her towards the doors that led to the dining room, and Hermione winced as a gong sounded to announce dinner. The party processed in the way that Pansy had described, and Hermione felt thoroughly pleased with herself that she managed to take her seat without receiving a disapproving look from her escort.

After the lavish meal and the obligatory separation of the sexes, the party came back together in the lounge. Hermione located her father standing with Lucius in a corner, talking quietly. She walked over and placed a hand on her father's arm.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering when would be a polite time for me to leave? I am incredibly tired, having been at work today, and would like very much to go to sleep soon." Lucius smiled, which somewhat disturbed her.

"Do not worry about interrupting us; we were merely revelling in our triumph." Lucius said. Her father put his arm about her shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze.

"You are a very lucky girl, Hermione! I have attended several balls, and they have been nothing as splendid as all this. And," Her father's eyes were twinkling. "Something very exciting will happen soon."

"Exciting? What do you mean?" Hermione looked up at the two men who were grinning at their shared secret. She couldn't help but feel a stir of suspicion.

"Oh yes!" Lucius replied. "It is very exciting. All of our guests are greatly looking forward to it."

"What…?" Hermione's mother, Narcissa and Draco were approaching, and Lucius smiled.

"At last, we can begin the proceedings!" Something told Hermione that it wouldn't be as exciting as she was being led to believe.

Once the group was all together, Lucius stepped forward and clapped his hands together. The other party-goers turned to look at him and he beamed.

"Ladies and gentlemen, as you know we are celebrating the return of our dear old friends the Divitis family!" There was a polite round of applause, during which Narcissa put a fond hand on Hermione's shoulder. "We hope that, now they have properly been integrated into society, our centuries-long bond will be continued between our children. Felix, if you will take over…" Hermione's father moved to stand next to Lucius.

"As heads of the ancient and noble families of Divitis and Malfoy, we have made the decision to unite our families through a marriage contract. Tonight, you will be the witness to the handfasting of Draco Lucius Malfoy and Hermione Jean Divitis."

The applause was deafening as Hermione tried to take in what her father had just announced. She was sure that she had heard handfasting, but surely her parents would never submit her to something so archaic… Her eyes flicked to Malfoy, who looked even paler than usual. He was gaping at his father, and Hermione's stomach began to sink.

"Mum?" She squeaked. Wilhelmina looked down at her and beamed.

"Isn't it wonderful? You're going to be a bride! Oh darling!" She threw her arms around her, but Hermione would not have it. She grabbed her mother's arm and pulled it from her, stumbling backwards.

"Why would you do this to me?" She gasped. "Why would you think that this is something I would be pleased about?" Malfoy's mouth had finally shut, but he still looked peaked. A ministry official shuffled forwards, clutching his bowler hat in his hand.

"Are we ready to proceed? It will only take a matter of minutes to fast the hands, perform the spell and sign the contracts." Hermione set her fierce glower upon the small man.

"You cannot do this if I'm not willing!" She said pleadingly. "It's illegal to do that, surely!"

"Not at all ma'am. In fact, in centuries past, old wizarding families believed that if a young lady was unwilling to perform the handfasting it was a good omen for the marriage. Nothing you say or do can revoke this contract, for you father has handed you over already. All that stands now is the formal ceremony."

A spell was waved over Hermione and her dress transfigured into a long ivory robe; Draco's clothes were similarly altered. A garland was brought forward by Pansy and placed in her hair.

"You knew?" Draco whispered to his friend. "You knew and you said nothing?"

"Of course I did!" Pansy replied. "As did Vincent. This will be good for you, Draco, you'll see." She moved away and went to stand next to Crabbe. The ministry official cleared his throat.

"We will now proceed with the ceremony." Hermione's eyes were wide in panic as she became acutely aware that her freedom was slipping through her fingers. "I give my daughter, Hermione Jean Divitis, to the heir of the noble family of Malfoy." Her father took her hand and extended it, as Hermione stared at it as though it was not her own. Lucius was smiling.

"I, on behalf of the Malfoy heir, accept her hand and give it to Draco Lucius Malfoy." Draco's hand was brought to meet Hermione's, and she could feel the sweat on his palm.

"Tie the ribbons, please." Lucius sent a ribbon from his wand that wound around their hands, and Felix did the same. Those gathered began to clap as the minister produced a contract which the two fathers signed. "And now the customary kiss of the hand."

Malfoy sneered at the minister, before bowing his head and placing a gentle kiss on her knuckle. Hermione snatched her hand away at the contact and looked around disbelievingly. Her parents were looking at her fondly, and Narcissa was being comforted by Lucius.

"I shall now pronounce you husband and wife."

Hermione was certain that her dazed expression would remain on her face forever. A mob of guests rushed forwards to congratulate them, but she could barely concentrate with the pain in her hand. Looking down, she saw a red band appearing on her wedding finger and it looked as though her finger had been burnt. She looked at Draco, who was inspecting his own hand with similar confusion. Gasping suddenly, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into a neighbouring room.

"I wish you wouldn't do that!" She demanded. "You don't have to drag me everywhere. If you simply asked me to come with you, I would comply and then I wouldn't have to scold you like this!" Malfoy was obviously too dejected to sneer at her, because he simply flopped onto a nearby chaise.

"I don't believe this." He whined. "My father must want me dead, because he should have known that this would drive me to suicide." He looked at her hesitantly. "Do you think this is really permanent? Or is it a practical joke?"

"I don't even think the Weasley twins would stoop as low as this in the name of a joke! No, I think our parents are most definitely serious."

Hermione darted from the room without a further word, but came back a moment later carrying the contract that their fathers had signed. She began to read it, running her finger along the words and moving her mouth a little.

"What does it say?" Malfoy went and stood behind her, reading the contract over her shoulder.

"It specifies the need for a 'happy and harmonious family home', a wife capable of bearing an heir, fidelity in the marriage and...NO!" Draco began reading quickly to catch her up, and she watched as his eyes darted across the page. She could tell when he reached it, for his eyes grew to the size of saucers.

"Weekly copulation? Have our parents lost the ability of rational thinking?" He gasped.

Hermione snorted.

"Rational went out of the window on my 21st birthday, Malfoy. I can't even say that I'm truly surprised."

She turned around to speak to him, and realised that they were a little too close for comfort. However, before she had time to move away from him the door opened. It was Pansy, with a smug look on her face as though she had interrupted something.

"Sorry for the intrusion, but I've been asked to escort the new Mr and Mrs Malfoy to their bedroom."

Hermione felt as though she would be sick.


	5. Five

Hermione began formulating a plan as soon as Pansy had begun leading them away and, by the time they reached the plush bedroom, one had settled firmly in her mind. Draco went into one room and Hermione another; she suspected that they would be joined by a door and was correct. Pansy spotted her looking at it and gave her a small smile.

"He'll come through there when you're ready. A man must always go to the woman, remember that."

Hermione scoffed at this. She truly couldn't believe how consumed by tradition the pureblood society was. Did they really still believe that men were superior? She wanted to scream aloud at the very idea; it was all old-fashioned rubbish, and she wanted to put a stop to it. Pansy motioned to the dressing table and Hermione reluctantly sat in front of it, watching in the mirror as Pansy picked up a brush and began to sweep it through Hermione's hair. She was surprised at how gentle the Slytherin girl was being, but suspected that she was under strict orders from Narcissa to play nicely. It struck Hermione as somewhat odd that Pansy and Draco had never married, and that instead she had married Crabbe. They'd always seemed destined for one another at school, but now it was as if they were just good friends.

"Why did you play along with all of this?" Hermione asked coolly, determined to get to the bottom of it. "I thought you and Draco were an item." Pansy laughed shrilly.

"No, I'm married to Vincent now; didn't anybody tell you? You really ought to read the social column in the Daily Prophet. Draco and I simply did not work out. Unfortunately it took him until the week before the wedding to realise that, but I'm sure he'll tell you all about it sometime."

Pansy stopped brushing and stared at Hermione's reflection. She looked sort of wistful, as though she would have given anything to be in Hermione's place instead. Pansy bit her lip, before suddenly turning and leaving the room. Hermione turned and stared at the shut door. Pansy had looked as though she was almost crying, and she wondered the reason why. She would have lingered for longer on Pansy's mysterious comment, but she definitely had more pressing matters at hand.

Ten minutes passed before the joining door opened quietly and Malfoy scuttled into the room. He reminded Hermione of a little boy in his pale blue nightshirt with a flickering candle in his hand. He looked pale, and his eyes were wide as though with fright. She wanted to laugh at him, but decided that she needed to at least try to be nice. He hadn't asked for this any more than she had. She nodded a greeting, and Draco's face fell when he saw that she was by no means dressed for bed.

"What are you doing?" He demanded testily.

"Oh honestly, did you really think I would spend the night with you?" She asked. Malfoy put the candlestick down on the dressing table and huffed at her.

"They'll kill me." He said. "You have to, or they'll kill the both of us!" Hermione shrugged and walked over to the plant pot in the corner, grabbing a handful of soil.

"I don't care. I wouldn't be acting so drastically if they hadn't have forced me to marry you – they should consider_ that_." She looked at him matter-of-factly, before holding out the hand with the soil in it and waving her wand over it.

"But…we have to…you know." He motioned to the bed with his head as Hermione grinned triumphantly, and whispered a foreign word over the soil.

"That's truly charming. I'm sure, if the circumstances were different, that chat up line would have me rushing to the bed. Do you use it often?" Malfoy sneered at the sarcastic tone, but Hermione grinned. "Do you think there would be some face powder in here?" She asked, standing up and dashing over to a chest of drawers.

"I don't have a clue!" Malfoy was huffing. "Listen, are we going to have sex or what?" Hermione laughed as she tugged open the bottom drawer.

"Ha!" She cried triumphantly, taking a pinch of face powder and mixing it with the soil in her left hand. She whispered something, and the mixture in her hand glowed green.

"What the bloody hell is that you've made?"

"It's Floo powder. A bit rougher, and more inaccurate, than the stuff you buy in shops, but I memorised the method from a book. Of course, it doesn't specify face powder, but it's a handy alternative." Malfoy was looking at her with wide eyes.

"You can't just leave!" He bleated. "You have no idea what my father will do to me! You're my bloody wife." Hermione laughed and rolled her eyes.

"Unfortunately I am, but I won't be for long if I can help it." She walked over to the fireplace. "And there's no need to worry, because I'll be back in the morning. They needn't know that we haven't done anything; it'll take seconds to muss the sheets up a bit." Malfoy was shaking his head.

"You can't! I absolutely forbid it. Father will be most displeased with us when he hears this, and the punishment will be horrible. I should know… I've had to put up with it for years!" Hermione looked at him thoughtfully and sighed.

"Nothing could be worse than what he's already done to us. Just think about what you're asking me to do, and when you realise how stupid it is, speak to me seriously. I'll see you in the morning, alright?" She lit a fire with her wand, threw the powder into it and shouted: "Hogwarts!"

As she landed in the fireplace at Hogwarts, Hermione couldn't help but notice how filthy with soot it was. She swiped a finger along the wall and clucked her tongue disapprovingly. However she didn't have much longer to brood on the cleanliness of the school, as she was met with the sight of Hagrid in his pyjamas. He was pointing a pink umbrella at her and squinting in the darkness.

"Who is it? Show yehself." He demanded. Hermione scrabbled out of the fireplace and lit up the room. "''Ermione? What the bloody 'ell are yeh doing 'ere?"

"I'm sorry for waking you up, Hagrid. I tried to Floo to the school but…well my powder is a little bit faulty." Hagrid ran a hand through is hair.

"Why are yeh coming to the school at this time o' night?" Hermione blushed a little bit as she dusted herself off.

"I needed to use the library and…well, I've had a few drinks and I wasn't thinking properly." He nodded solemnly.

"I know the feelin'. I'll put a coat on an' I'll walk yeh up to the school. Yeh can tell me all abou' your parents on the way up, eh?"

Hagrid was thoroughly disgusted by the underhanded way her parents had given her over to Malfoy. Hermione wouldn't have been surprised if he had insisted on going to give them a piece of his mind, but she managed to stop him.

"It won't last much longer." She said encouragingly. "That's why I'm here – to look in the library. My book collection is pretty extensive, but I've never read much about old pureblood marriage contracts. I don't suppose you know anything?" Hagrid shook his head.

"All I know is that they 'avent bin used in centuries. But, if yeh wan' to know about 'em, yeh'll find nowhere better than Hogwarts." Hermione nodded and smiled.

"Well, I'll let you get back to your hut now. I expect you've had a busy day." Hagrid nodded.

"Teachin' the third years, they're even worse than yeh lot." Hermione waved as she crept into the library, hoping that she wouldn't cross Mrs Norris or Filch at any time.

She had found over two dozen books that mentioned something about old pureblood marriage contracts. Books about how to draw them up, the best way to make an unwilling witch comply and a brief mention about the last contract ever used. Hermione did find one book that she would find rather useful, but also found one that made her stomach turn. She read it aloud to herself quietly, her voice becoming more high-pitched the more panicked she became.

"In marriage contracts, fathers imbed secret clauses that enforce the rules specified in the contract. These clauses often use pain or obsession to make sure that both married parties follow the rules laid out for them. An example of this was in 1657 when Claudius and Madeline Wroth were forced together using bewitched rings!"

Hermione lightly prodded the red mark on her wedding finger and let out a hitched sigh. Was that what they had done? Used a brand to control them using pain? She shook her head and slammed the book shoot – this would be brought along for future reference.

After a further two hours' research, Hermione shrunk the three tomes that she had found most informative and walked over to the fireplace in the library. Hagrid had given her some proper Floo powder to use; he didn't use it himself, but kept it in his hut in case anyone ever visited him that way. She threw the powder into the fireplace and said "Draco's room, Malfoy Manor."

Moments later she was spat out onto the familiar paisley carpet from earlier. She scrambled to her feet and went to put the books into a drawer. Malfoy was asleep and Hermione grinned evilly. As he snored, she changed quickly into the skimpy slip of lingerie that was left for her and climbed in the bed next to him. He mumbled something unintelligible, and she wondered if this was the way she would spend the rest of her life. Running away from a husband she didn't want and pretending to be happily married? She also wondered if Pansy would have rather been in this position, which caused her to sigh miserably.

_She can have him if she wants him, because I don't, _she thought, _and I'm going to find a way out of this marriage. I'll do whatever it takes._


	6. Six

When Hermione woke the next morning with her feet sticking out of the bed and her hair pressed against her face, she decided that she had never been more mortified in her life. Luckily Draco seemed to be just as humiliated as her, as he led stock still in the bed with his eyes trained on his mother as she busied herself about the bedroom. Hermione watched too as the blonde witch placed two trays on the bed and began to draw back the curtains; she tried not to appear too embarrassed when Narcissa wiggled her eyebrows at her suggestively.

"Did you two sleep well?" Draco mumbled something incoherent, but Hermione stretched her arms above her head and grinned lasciviously.

"I hardly slept at all." She could have laughed aloud at the look of disgust on Draco's face. Thankfully, Narcissa didn't notice her son's horrified expression but merely gazed into the distance happily.

"I remember my wedding night, Lucius was such a –"

"Mother!" Narcissa had the courtesy to blush, before clearing her throat.

"Right, well…I think I'll leave you two lovebirds alone. Enjoy your breakfast."

The pair sat in silence for a while, as Hermione tucked into the gigantic feast in front of her – research always made her hungry. She had just taken a huge bite of toast when she realised that her new husband was staring at her.

"Yes?" She asked, somewhat irritated.

"Why did you go to Hogwarts last night?" She put her toast down and licked some jam from her thumb absentmindedly.

"Research. The library at Hogwarts is unrivalled, and I was right to go and look. I found some very interesting books, actually." She explained what she had found, and took a sordid pleasure in seeing his already pallid face turn even paler.

"You don't think they would do that to us? I mean, my father is somewhat forceful but he would never purposefully hurt anyone…" Hermione snorted.

"So your father wasn't a Death Eater for a good part of his life then? He simply liked to play dress up, did he?" She was pleased when he couldn't find an answer. "You needn't have worried last night; it seemed your mother didn't notice anything was amiss."

"No wonder." He started darkly. "With your lewd suggestions, she probably thinks you're some kind of hussy." Hermione giggled quietly as she took a sip of tea.

"You should be grateful; usually men don't get such a testament to their sexual prowess from me. But, then again, I was only pretending; I probably wouldn't have been that generous otherwise." They fell quiet for a moment, and Hermione took the time to ruminate on the strange fact that this was the most normal thing she had done all week – a mean feat considering she was eating breakfast in bed with Draco Malfoy.

Hermione dressed quickly once she had finished her breakfast, and practically catapulted down the stairs into her mother. The older witch smiled at her daughter and pulled her into a rough embrace.

"I'm so proud of you darling! I had thought that you were going to put up more of a fight, but you chose to be sensible! Thank you." Hermione forced a smile and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She noticed an odd look pass over her mother's face as Wilhelmina looked at her daughter's hand questioningly.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing, darling! I simply got caught up with my thoughts." The older witch smiled vaguely. "What are you planning on doing today?"

"Well I thought it would be a good idea to tell Harry, Ron and Ginny about the marriage; you know…before the press do."

"Of course. Will you be back here for dinner?"

"I don't think so. Would you ask Draco to come to my flat tonight? I forgot to mention it to him upstairs."

"Yes, I'll do it later. Have a nice day, darling." Hermione kissed her mother lightly on the cheek, before heading out of the door into the sunshine.

Wilhelmina watched her daughter for a moment, before heading to the conservatory hurriedly. She found Narcissa there, listening to a house elf who was reading from a book.

"Good morning, Wilhelmina. You look rather disappointed, what is it?"

"They lied to us." The brunette responded, as Narcissa waved the house elf away. "The brands on their fingers were still a bright red - they told a barefaced lie!" Narcissa looked thunderstruck and she let out an angry huff.

"Your daughter is certainly one to watch, she knows how to put on a good show!"

"Unfortunately, I think she got it from her mother." The two women thought in silence for a moment. "What do you suggest we do?"

"Let them think they have got away with it. Then, later, we shall tell Lucius and Felix. They will know better how to deal with them than we do. In the mean time, we can go for a pleasant walk in the garden. Don't worry about our children; I'm sure that all they need is a little push before they will fall."

Ginny, Ron and Harry all looked at Hermione anxiously as she paced the length of her sitting room. They had all received her owls that morning, asking them to urgently meet her at her flat and telling them not to read any newspapers beforehand. They noticed that she looked stressed and tired, and it wasn't helped by the fact that she was chewing nervously on her already bitten fingernails.

"Are you in trouble?" Harry asked gravely. "Because we'll help you, all you have to do is ask." Hermione stopped and looked at them all.

"I wouldn't say I was in trouble, per say, but I do have a bit of a predicament."

"What?" Ron interjected snidely. "Is pureblood life not how you thought it would be?"

"No actually!" Hermione responded shrilly. "I hadn't expected to be married, after all!" They all fell into a stunned silence.

"You're _married_?" Ginny asked finally, as Harry mouthed silently and Ron leant back in his seat.

"Yes - a marriage contract drawn up by my father and Lucius Malfoy. You are looking at the new, and official, Mrs Hermione Malfoy."

"I knew it!" Ron cried, leaping to his feet and pointing an accusatory finger. "I knew you fancied him."

"How many times must I tell you that _I don't fancy Draco Malfoy_?" Ginny also stood to her feet and placed a comforting hand on Ron's shoulder.

"Hermione was forced into this, Ron. She doesn't need you harping on at her about it."

"What are you going to do?" Harry asked. Hermione couldn't help but notice his frosty tone of voice, but she understood; he and Draco had been enemies for years, after all.

"I'm planning on fighting this all the way. I've been looking at books already, you know, to try and find a way to get out of it." Ron scoffed.

"I can't even bear to listen to this. I'm leaving." He disapparated, but not before Hermione had shot him with a hex.

"What was _that_?" Ginny asked, looking vaguely impressed.

"Well, no one will want to go near Ronald for a while." Hermione sniggered. "I hit him with the Stinking Hex."

Harry and Ginny stayed for lunch, but Hermione was quite glad when she was left alone. She flopped onto the sofa, kicked off her shoes and switched on the television – she had a craving to do something _normal_. How long she had been there (and when she had fallen asleep) Hermione did not know, because she was woken abruptly by a knock on the door. Yawning, she wandered over to the door and opened it to find Draco Malfoy clutching a pile of books and looking hounded. Behind him stood a crowd of tenacious reporters, who instantly began taking pictures and hurling questions when they saw Hermione.

"What is it like to be married, Hermione?"

"When did you two fall in love?"

"What made you change your mind about her Draco?"

She herded her husband into the flat, before shutting the door and locking it with a reinforced spell. He dropped the books on the coffee table, before looking at her and sneering.

"How did you find these?" She demanded, choosing to ignore his sneer.

"Luckily I got to them before the house elf managed to take them to my mother." He snapped. Hermione picked them up and took them over to the bookshelf, ignoring Malfoy's criticising gaze.

"What is wrong with you? You're even more unpleasant than normal!"

"My father." He stated abruptly. "He wants us to go to the manor."

"Why?" She asked, turning and raising an eyebrow.

"Because they know that we lied." He looked petrified. "And they are _furious_."

Draco was not lying when he said his father was angry, Hermione had never seen the man look so livid. Her father was fuming too, but their mothers simply looked disappointed. For a moment Hermione felt guilty, until she remembered that it was not her who had done anything wrong.

"What do you have to say for yourself, you silly girl?" Lucius barked.

"I'm not scared of you!" She cried. "Draco might be, but I'm certainly not! You can do what you like, because I simply won't comply." Lucius grinned maliciously.

"Do I have your permission, Felix?" He asked. Hermione was shocked to see her father nod staunchly in agreement. "You two are to be locked in your bedroom until you consummate this marriage! This house will become impenetrable, so if either of you want to continue living your lives properly you will _do as we say_." Hermione staggered backwards, her mouth had gone dry and her head was pounding.

"You're going to keep us prisoner?" Lucius nodded.

"Yes. Wilhelmina, take them upstairs."

Hermione let out an ear piercing scream the moment her mother shut the door. She could not believe that this was happening to her, a forced marriage followed by imprisonment? Her life had suddenly turned into one of those ridiculous television soap operas. Draco slumped onto the floor as Hermione began trying everything she knew, but not one spell in her vast inventory could help her leave that room. As each spell failed, she began to panic and had soon fallen to the floor in a heap as well.

"I hate my father." Malfoy muttered darkly. Hermione glared at him.

"I've _always_ hated your father – I can't believe it's taken you so long!"

They sat in silence for a moment until, suddenly, they simultaneously shrieked. A forceful wave of pain had made its way through Hermione's fingers, up her left arm and into the rest of her body – she suspected that the same had happened to Malfoy.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Hermione stared at her hand in horror and clutched it as a second wave passed through; Draco threw his head back and screamed "bugger!"

Every minute this happened, and the pain grew less tolerable as each minute passed. Hermione was bent over double, tears streaming down her face as she tried to control the pain.

"I can't believe they actually did it." She whimpered. "They've…OH!"

"I can't bear it any longer!" Malfoy hollered, looking at her wildly. "I can't!"

Hermione took the painless seconds to crawl over to him and she grabbed his hand vigorously. When then next wave came, they found that it was slightly less painful and Hermione nodded.

"It's the only way to make it stop." She hissed. "We have to do as they say and then it will end, it's the only way." The next one came and he dragged her to him, holding her head to his chest – she was right, the pain was decreasing.

"I don't want to." He said, through gritted teeth.

"Neither do I, but I don't want to feel like this for the rest of my life either!" As she felt the pain start again, she wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him closer. "We'll just have to get it over and done with. Anything is preferable to this."

He nodded vigorously, before pulling her towards him and kissing her vehemently on the lips.

* * *

_Author's Note: There is a link to a description of the hex used by Hermione on Ron in my profile! Thanks for reading. :) _


	7. Seven

For the whole week following that night, Hermione was unable to look any of the Malfoys or her parents in the eye; in the face of what had happened it seemed that they all reverted to the typical British way of dealing with things – awkward politeness and lots of tea.

The actual consummation of the marriage had been rushed and fumbled and it was obvious that they were doing it out of desperation, rather than for pleasure. Hermione woke the next morning with her head on his bare chest, and the idea mortified her to the very core; it was simply wrong, what they had been forced to endure. She was tempted to buy a pensieve and remove the offensive images, but had decided that it wouldn't be worth the money. After all, the contract dictated that this would be a weekly occurrence and she would have to learn to put up with it.

The only thing that truly kept her going was the idea of reeking revenge on Lucius. Whenever she felt sickened by her memories, she would picture blasting the blonde wizard with a particularly nasty hex and everything would seem better.

One particularly irritating downside to this painful way of controlling them was the constant presence of Draco Malfoy. Hermione, in a rightful fit of rage, had refused to stay a further night in the Malfoy Manor and had declared that she would be moving back into her flat. It was much to her surprise that Draco announced that he would be coming with her. It later became clear that he was simply terrified that she would not be within easy access, should the pain commence again.

A fortnight later and Hermione was at the end of her tether. If he had been infuriating whilst they had been at the manor, it was nothing compared to the way he affected her in the tiny flat. He was lazy, rude and Hermione was disgusted at his lax attitude towards cleanliness – every morning she found long blonde hairs in the shower. No amount of nagging, however, would encourage Draco to change his ways; it seemed that he was every bit as obstinate as the boys had been.

"Why should I clean up around here? It isn't my house, nor is it my fault that you have some unfounded problem with house elves." Hermione let out a shriek of anger as she began to shovel the necessities into her handbag: purse, wand, mobile phone, identity badge…

"You live here too, and you're here of your own free will! I never forced you to come and live with me, but you have to live by my rules if you're going to." Malfoy shook his head as he lazily flicked through the television channels; she was greatly regretting teaching him how to use the remote control.

"Find us a house elf then, because you aren't going to get any help from me."

That morning, Hermione went into work in a terribly bad mood. Even Mundungus realised that it was a bad idea to torment her, for he stayed silent as she stomped past him. A memo flew at Hermione's head when she walked into her office, and she let out an indignant squeal. She read it hurriedly, before darting into the office next door where Zachary was waiting for her.

"It was good of you to show up." He said slowly.

"I'm sorry, but that bloody man..."

"Mundungus? I would have fired him ages ago, but thought it would be rude, seeing as you recommended him."

"No not him! He had the foresight to stay quiet for once." She replied dejectedly. "I'm talking about Draco." Zachary looked at her pityingly and placed a comforting hand on top of hers.

"It was awful when my wife first moved in with me, we were always arguing. You'll get used to it eventually, though."

"At least you had the advantage of being in love with your wife. Me? I get a stupid marriage contract."

Although the marriage contract had become known through the press, Hermione and Draco had decided to refrain from telling anyone about their matching scars. They knew that it would draw more attention than it was worth, and Hermione wasn't keen on the whole world knowing that they were forced to have sex on a weekly basis. "What did you want to talk to me about?" Zachary shuffled a huge pile of papers, looking for the one that he wanted. He found it and slammed it on the desk in front of Hermione.

"A conference next month." He told her. "You've been chosen as a delegate for the European Conference of Emigration or something like that. Basically, they want someone smart, who isn't afraid of asking questions and can take notes at the speed of light. You interested?"

Of _course _Hermione was interested. Anyone who bothered to get to know her would discover that Hermione could easily be swayed if academia was involved. The conference would be an opportunity to make her opinions known and to find out more about other wizard and witches around Europe! She was practically buzzing with excitement as she left the office that evening, and not even the prospect of Draco being there made her feel down. In fact, she couldn't wait to brag about it. A whole two nights away from him and their interfering families sounded like bliss, and she would take full advantage of being out from under the thumb of Lucius and her father. Draco would be absolutely seething with jealousy, he had told her just the other day how much he wanted to get out of England.

Mundungus had obviously sensed a change in her temper, as he muttered something vulgar under his breath when she passed him.

"What was that?" She asked coquettishly. He flashed a lopsided grin and, for the first time in a while, she returned the smile genuinely.

"I was just…er…sayin' how lovely the weather is."

"It's raining." He coughed and pretended to busy himself with some papers, whilst she walked out of the office shaking her head and laughing.

Hermione found Draco exactly where she had left him, lounging on the sofa with a glazed expression on his face. She also noticed, with distaste, that he really needed a shave – the man led out in her sitting room was not the usually well-groomed boy from her school days.

"You look happy." He drawled as a form of greeting. She threw herself into the armchair, snatched the remote from him and flicked to the muggle news.

"I'm very happy, thank you." He pouted and Hermione was reminded once more of a little boy.

"Why? Pleased to see me?"

"No. I'm going on a trip."

"Oh? Where are we off to?" Hermione did a double take. Surely he was kidding? Did he honestly think that she would want him to come with her?

"_I'm_going to Berlin. You, however, are staying here."

"I think you'll find that I will be going too."

"It's a conference for those who work in my department. It's nothing to do with you." He was smirking in a way which perturbed Hermione, and the most disconcerting thing was that he knew it.

"Father simply won't let you go alone. It's unseemly, you see, for a pureblood woman to go anywhere without her husband." Hermione spluttered and leapt to her feet.

"I don't believe this! I have never met a bigger hypocrite in my entire life. You've been living like a muggle for the past fortnight and have become inseparable from the television, yet you're clinging on desperately to your pureblood roots? How can you be so supportive of something that has forced you to, not only marry, but _bed_someone you have no feelings for? It is simply unfathomable!"

Draco sauntered over to her arrogantly and, for the first time since the whole farce had started, Hermione felt threatened by him. She was not certain why, but this topic of pureblood culture was a soft spot with Draco, and it was guaranteed to rile him. She had no real idea of the way he would behave.

"Do you remember our chat? The one in which I warned you about your new life?" Hermione nodded stiffly. "Well you ought to think about it more often. My father is the voice of authority over me and, as my wife, you, so we must do as he says."

"He is putting you through _physical pain_!" She yelled. "And yet you still bow down to him as though that is right?"

"Yes!"

It was quite clearly the end of the conversation, as Draco put on his cloak and stormed out of the flat. Hermione rubbed the bridge of her nose and sat down again. She desperately needed Draco; the fact was sad but true. If Hermione wanted to make any progress against this ludicrous marriage contract she would need his help. Together they would have more power against them, especially as Draco knew the way things worked in his father's world. It was obviously not the right moment for her to try and bring him on side, but she was certain that it would not be much longer before he finally became disenchanted with the way his father controlled him. Hermione felt that it would only take a small event to tip him over the edge, and she heartily hoped that Draco would become completely averse to his father's views and ways.

Narcissa was the one who insisted that Draco go along to Berlin. Much to Hermione's surprise, Lucius did not care whether his son went, but Narcissa was absolutely adamant that Hermione was not to go alone.

"May I ask why?" Hermione enquired icily. Narcissa was composed and placid, which had something of a calming effect on Hermione and she felt her resolve fading a little.

"I understand that, due to unfortunate circumstances, you have not had the privilege of learning all of the pureblood rules. This means that you do not appreciate the different things that we ask of you, and so we must address this." Hermione nodded.

"I would much rather you explained things than use violence and force. It's much more civilised, don't you think?" She asked. For a moment, Narcissa resembled the haughty woman that Hermione had met in the Top Box at the Quidditch world cup.

"Of course, but the issue of the contract is a different matter entirely. We are discussing the subject of you gallivanting to Berlin alone. It is highly unacceptable for a young lady of your position to do this, and a newly-married young lady at that!" Wilhelmina, whom Hermione was not surprised to see there, stepped forward.

"We are concerned for your safety, Hermione! Can't you see that? I've told you time and time again that everything we do is _for your own good_."

"What? It's for my own good to torture me because I won't _sleep_with someone?"

"This is not what we are discussing!" Wilhelmina's tone was sharp and her words rang in Hermione's ears.

"Fine." She stated. "Fine. I acquiesce. Draco must come with me to Berlin because I'm a young and vulnerable lady." This surrender was given through gritted teeth and was half-hearted at best. She was dismissed from the room, much to her relief.

Draco was waiting outside, looking anxious but excited all at the same time. He darted over when she appeared from the conservatory, and she was surprised to he seem him actually smiling at her.

"Well?" He asked. "Am I going to Berlin?"

"Yes." She intoned, slipping past him and outside into the garden.

"I don't know why you're looking so miserable about it! I would have expected you to be pleased that we're going away from our parents."

"I am! But it would be ten times better if _you_weren't coming. I wanted to get some serious work done, but you'll just want to go out to clubs no doubt?"

"Well, I was hoping that it would be a little bit fun…but I'm a big boy. I can go out on my own." Hermione smirked. A way to make Draco's trip unpleasant had suddenly come to her.

"No you can't. Apparently, I'm to be chaperoned everywhere; I'm a vulnerable woman! I managed to face Voldermort but, oh no, I can't go to Berlin on my own! You'll have to escort me to meetings, I'm afraid, and wait outside until they're finished." Draco gaped at her as she went back inside, determined to find a house elf that would provide her with a big pitcher of something alcoholic.

Holed up in a tiny cupboard with a whole pitcher of long island ice tea to herself, Hermione felt rather naughty. She took a sip of the drink and smacked her lips together, revelling in this moment of rebellion. Suddenly, the small room was bathed in light and her mother's frame was highlighted in the doorway.

"Hello mother." Hermione muttered, putting the pitcher down on the floor.

"Hermione, what are you doing? Draco is looking for you; he wants to go home and watch football on the television."

"So you actually remember what football _is_, do you?" Hermione snapped. "You're not above anything muggle now then?" Her mother sat down on a pile of bath towels and she sighed wearily.

"I know that you're a little angry with us, darling, and I realise that it's difficult for you. But think how difficult it is for your father and I. We had to give up everything we knew and start all over again, just to keep you safe! My brave girl, it isn't as bad as you think it is. Draco is a nice boy; you just have to give it some time." Hermione strained a smile. It was entirely faked, but her mother seemed to buy it.

"I just don't see why I'm not able to go to Berlin _alone_."

"You need a chaperone, Hermione. A newlywed woman must not leave her husband for too long, so I'm afraid it's a necessity." Hermione let out a quiet sigh before taking a deep gulp of her drink.

"Very well. He can come with me and I won't complain any more. Does that make you happy?" Her mother kissed her cheek and beamed at her.

"Very! I'll leave you to your drink, but don't be too long; Draco said that he's hungry and would like you to make some pasta." Hermione let the remark about Draco's stomach pass, but she couldn't help feeling secretly pleased that her mother was so easily satisfied.

It would make her eventual revenge all the more sweet.


	8. Eight

It was with great relief that the new Mr and Mrs Malfoy left England for a two night break in Berlin.

They departed early in the morning, a choice made to prevent Narcissa and Wilhelmina coming to wave them goodbye. A portkey had been arranged in the halls of the Ministry, and it would take them directly to the German Ministry of Magic. Hermione had read all about the magnificent ice sculpture that stood in the entrance and lasted all year long, whereas Draco was looking forward to visiting one of the many famous _Kneipe -_he had heard fantastic things about German beer. They spent at least fifteen minutes in the entrance of the German Ministry whilst Hermione took pictures of the figure and told Draco all sorts of useless information about it; he was terribly thankful when they left.

Unfortunately, his gratitude was short-lived. The British Ministry had paid for the accommodation and, being skinflints, had put them up in a small and muggle hotel. Hermione was thoroughly enchanted with its quaint German architecture, but her enthusiasm was extinguished when she saw Draco's expression.

"This is pathetic." He stated, looking disapprovingly at everything from the carpet to the light fixtures. "A muggle peasant wouldn't even stay here." Hermione glared at him disapprovingly as a passing couple gave them funny looks.

"You obviously care nothing for the Statute of Secrecy!" She hissed. They approached the desk and the man smiled at them friendlily.

"_Guten Morgen. Wie kann ich ihnen helfen_?" Hermione had already prepared herself for the foreign tongue and cast a translation spell on herself before they arrived.

"We have two rooms booked, under the name of Malfoy." Draco goggled at her when he heard her speaking fluent German as, in actuality, she had said it in English.

"I am afraid we only have one room under that name, a double room." Draco was amused as Hermione's face turned pinkish from anger.

"Is there any chance that we could have two separate rooms?"

"_Leider nicht_. We are fully booked for these two nights; this is the only available room." Hermione let out a disgruntled sigh. She was tempted to try and find other accommodation in the city, but the Ministry had already paid for this one and she couldn't afford the top-rate accommodation that Draco would no-doubt ask for.

"Very well, we'll take it." The man smiled and tapped at his computer.

"Breakfast is served from seven am until ten am, and dinner is served from 6pm until 9pm. Here is your key," the man handed Hermione a swipe card. "And your room is number 28. Please enjoy your stay."

The room was small but tidy, with a double bed, television, wardrobe and ensuite bathroom. Hermione quickly waved her wand and their clothes flew from the suitcases to the wardrobe – Malfoy had already flopped onto the bed and was watching a German football match.

"Honestly!" She said, shaking her head. "If it isn't one sport it's another." Malfoy led back on the bed and patted it suggestively.

"Come and join me then, my darling wife, and we'll do something _much_more entertaining."

"Tempting as that is, I'll have to refuse. Don't you want to come and investigate what the city has to offer? There won't be much chance tomorrow, and we'll have to leave early the day after."

"No, unless you're going to a bar." He grinned fiendishly. "And you can't go anywhere if I don't come with you." Hermione sighed and sat down on the bed next to him. She picked up one of the magazines left at the side of the bed and began to flick through it, glaring moodily at him as she did.

"We'll have to stay here then." He didn't even bother trying to hide his victorious smile.

The next day, however, Draco was regretting not taking her anywhere. Hermione had various different conferences and lectures throughout the day and, true to her word, she expected him to wait in the lobby of the ministry for her. He located a comfortable-looking bench and sat on it irritably, watching Hermione with a sneer as she shuffled into a conference room looking keen. Malfoy could just picture her, waving her arm in the air to ask a dozen questions that nobody really wanted to know the answer to. He sniggered at the image, before realising that he looked odd laughing to himself.

Meanwhile, Hermione was enthralled with the various subjects they covered. She had lots to say about the way the British Ministry handled immigration and emigration, and picked up lots of other useful titbits from representatives of other Ministries. Sitting next to her was a wizard from Switzerland, whom Hermione found had many interesting things to say about the subject; after discussions with him, Hermione had possibly established a link between the two Ministries, and she was looking forward to regaling Zachary with all of the new information she had learnt. Even during the break she wanted to learn more, and approached the speaker to discuss his views on the immigration of non-humans – she was still as tenacious about house elves as ever. Hermione was enjoying herself so much that she had forgotten about the world outside the conference hall. Draco had not even entered into her thoughts when she felt a sharp and searing pain shoot up her arm. Her eyes widened and she squeezed her hand, before whispering a sorrowful "shit".

Draco's response was very similar to that of Hermione's, except his curse was louder. He had been in the process of flirting with a very beautiful German secretary, the only means by which to entertain himself, when the pain struck him. The girl looked at him, clearly affronted, before huffing and stalking away. Draco sat back down on the bench and squeezed the hand between his knees, jolting as a second wave of pain passed through him. His heart was racing and his eyes were wide with panic, for he had no idea where Hermione was and she would _kill_ him if he interrupted the conference. He didn't need to worry for much longer, however, as Hermione came tearing out of the conference room with the look of a woman possessed. She grabbed his hand without talking and they disapparated, just as another wave ripped through their bodies.

Once in the privacy of their hotel room, Hermione did not waste any time in moving to the next step. She began unbuttoning her blouse, her hands shaking as the pain tore through them again. Malfoy was wriggling out of his trousers, whilst trying to shut the curtains for the sake of modesty.

"Why is this happening?" Hermione shrieked. "We only did it yesterday!"

"I don't have a bloody clue!" Draco snapped. "Maybe my father has finally lost it." Hermione screeched as she walked over to him and began kissing his neck.

"I. Can't. Believe. I. Left. My. Lecture. For. _This_." She said, in-between each kiss. Malfoy gently pushed her away before leading her towards the bed.

"It isn't getting any better! Why isn't it getting better?" Hermione was crying; the sting was getting worse by the minute, and it just didn't make sense.

"I don't understand." She looked at him suddenly, her eyebrows furrowed. "What were you doing before the pain started?" Draco looked bashful for a moment.

"I was…Agh! I was just making some plans…"

"Plans for what?"

"To…uh…meet a witch for a few drinks, a meal, maybe a bit of dancing." Hermione suddenly thumped him with the pillow.

"You idiot!" She screamed. "You complete and utter _cretin_!" They were both reduced to screams as a violent surge swept through them.

"What? What have I done?"

"The pain enforces _all_of the clauses, not just the one about sex! We're being punished because _you_can't keep your eyes off another woman!" Draco at least had the courtesy to look somewhat guilty as he breathed heavily, trying to recover before the next one hit.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realise."

"Of course you bloody didn't, because you only ever think about yourself!" Hermione closed her eyes and turned away from him. She was grateful that he had only removed her outer layer of clothes, as it was not completely degrading to lie there in her underwear.

The pain persisted for a two hour stretch, during which neither of them talked. Draco watched her back, speckled with freckles and goose pimples, and he knew that she was crying. Gingerly, he placed a hand on her shoulder and she sniffed. It was a peculiar moment, a gesture of affection that did not belong with Draco Malfoy or in this situation. She could picture him sat behind her, his cold eyes boring into her and his pale fingers brushing against her skin.

She shivered.

"I think it's stopped." Hermione nodded in response and sat up, still trying to avoid his eye. They looked an odd pair; she was wearing mismatched underwear and Draco was sat there in only his boxer shorts and socks.

"I...I have nothing to say." It was true. This time, Hermione was absolutely stumped by the actions of their parents. Their behaviour so far had been depraved, but this went beyond anything they had already experienced. Two hours of almost constant affliction as a punishment for five minutes of harmless flirtation – it was truly a penalty that outweighed the crime.

When she had finally composed herself, Hermione turned to look at him and found him staring pensively at the bed. He looked up suddenly, and sheer rage was clear in his eyes.

"They're mad." He muttered heatedly. "Absolutely stark raving mad. What kind of father would torture his son? How is that acceptable under any circumstance?"

"It isn't." Hermione whispered. She felt a swell of hope in her chest, and her stomach flipped at the prospect that Draco might just be coming round to her way of thinking. "We shouldn't have to tolerate this."

"You're right, and I'm not going to." He looked at her sheepishly. "I owe you an apology, I think. You have been trying to tell me how immoral this is from the beginning. I should have listened instead of trying to feed you all of that pureblood guff." Hermione nodded enthusiastically and she gave him a watery smile

"Your apology is accepted, but…" She sighed. "I need your help." He smirked at her and led back nonchalantly, looking every inch the spoilt brat he usually was. He was obviously thrilled about the usually independent Hermione asking help of her former enemy.

"What can I do?" She moved over and knelt by him, prepared to swallow her pride.

"I'm going to take our parents to the Wizengamot, sue them for everything they have and tell the public how evil they truly are. I also have an idea about the scars." She absentmindedly traced her finger around the now white band. "It seems almost too easy, but it's a reasonable idea…"

It had occurred to Hermione that it couldn't be Lucius who was inflicting the pain on them, but that the pain must be generated by the scar itself. This idea created dozens of theories in her mind, but one that stood out the most was connected to an Unforgivable – the Imperius curse. Imperius worked by affecting every nerve and muscle in the body, the magic wound itself around them and controlled the body that way; that was the reason the caster could control the victim. She figured that the scar worked in the same way, affecting the muscles and nerves in the affected parts of the body thus causing pain. Hermione vaguely thought back to their fourth year Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons, and remembered Harry successfully throwing off the Imperius curse. An idea suddenly struck her that, if she and Draco would throw off the Imperius curse, they would be able to prevent the pain from affecting her. Draco listened to her, as she shook her head and began to gesticulate wildly, and he was clearly amused by this rush of energy and enthusiasm.

"It is a sound suggestion." He told her. "You could use your position in the Ministry to disable the tracker on our magic, and then we can actually perform the curse on one another." He was a little anxious that this suggestion would offend her, but was also unsurprised when her face broke into a mischievous smirk.

"I do think your family has begun to corrupt me, but that is a fantastic idea. We'll get started as soon as we get home! Harry has a stack of books that can help us, and I'm sure that Hogwarts will have _something_about the subject. Maybe we can look in the Restricted Section…we can go straight there instead of going back to the flat!"

"I'm afraid that won't be possible." Draco said miserably. "We arranged to have afternoon tea with our fathers, remember?"

It was decided that, throughout their visit to the Manor, Hermione and Draco would keep their truce a secret. Hermione believed that if they became suspicious of them, their plan to fight the marriage contract would be destroyed. It was certainly easy for them to slip into their previous roles when faced with Lucius looking at his most condescending; Hermione referred to her old trick of picturing him in an incredible amount of agony.

"I trust you enjoyed your trip?" He asked, sipping his tea and peering at her over the edge of the teacup.

"Oh yes," she replied sarcastically. "Because I enjoy nothing more than spending my time with an arrogant little git." Draco shot her a filthy look.

"If anyone suffered on that trip, father, it was me! I have never met anyone so tedious in my entire life!"

Conversation about their trip died quickly and they slurped their tea in silence; Hermione could never fault the cakes at the Malfoy Manor, she particularly enjoyed that afternoon's carrot cake. Draco was picking at it, looking as though he would rather be anywhere else .

"So Hermione," Lucius said. "How many grandchildren do you foresee us having?" This little question caused her to spit out her tea, earning her a disapproving look from the two fathers.

"Grandchildren? You don't seem the type to bounce a baby on your knee; I can certainly see you kicking a child, but acting the doting grandfather?" Hermione's father smiled affectionately at his daughter - whereas her mother hated her wit, her father had always appreciated it.

"What about me, darling? I would quite like grandchildren, perhaps a boy and a girl."

"I don't want children." She retorted bitterly. Hermione realised that Draco had suddenly tensed up and she looked to find him torn between glaring at Lucius and glaring at her. "I think…" She added as a quiet afterthought that was really only intended for herself.

In truth, Hermione had never really thought about children much. Unlike the other girls in her dormitory (who had all planned their ideal weddings by the age of thirteen) she had never really cared to think about that aspect of her future. It seemed silly to concentrate so intently on something that depended on the opinion of another person, another person who you might not have even met yet! Whenever her younger cousins had visited Hermione had played with them and found that she quite liked their company, but would it be the same with her own? Would she be able to care for a child that had been the product of a forced union? A child with blonde bushy hair and bucked teeth, intelligent but with a vindictive streak? An image of her and Draco standing on platform 9 and ¾ popped unbidden into her mind; she was tired and fat, Draco had a receding hairline and was miserable and their child despised them for hating one another.

Would this be her fate if she couldn't fight her way out of the marriage? She shuddered at the thought.

Lucius was smirking maliciously again, and Hermione wondered if he was able to perform Legillimency. He certainly seemed amused at something that was going on in the room. Draco was wringing his hands and looked agitated, he shifted in his chair and looked at each person in turn.

"Why must we talk about children?" He asked stiffly. "Can't we discuss something else?"

"No. I think this is a very important topic to broach. After all, you will have been married a month next week and it is almost time to beget an heir for the Malfoy and Divitis fortunes."

"_Beget an heir_? I am not a broodmare, and I won't be treated like one! If I was to have children it wouldn't be for a few years, because I'm only twenty one and I have plenty of life ahead of me. You can wait a few more years before I produce the spawn of Satan, surely?" Lucius looked to Draco and raised an eyebrow.

"Aren't you going to discipline your wife?" He enquired haughtily. "As her husband it is your duty to see that her tongue does not become too loose."

"I will do it when we return home." Draco replied darkly, sneering at her. Lucius shook his head as though disappointed and took a sip of his tea.

"I am saddened by this blatant disregard for your duties, Draco. I think you shall have to send your wife back to Mrs Crabbe for a few more pureblood etiquette lessons, and whilst she is there she can ask her about children. Pansy _would_provide an interesting insight into pregnancy, wouldn't she Draco?"

Hermione was taken aback when Draco leapt to his feet, knocking over the tea table, and darted from the room. She stared at the door, blinking, as house elves ran in to clear the mess that he had made. Lucius was studying her, a malevolent glint in his eye. It was almost as though he was daring her to ask, knowing that, if she did, the results would be positively disastrous. She stood up and smoothed down her skirt, trying her best to mimic Narcissa's composed and superior look that she used in tense situations.

"Thank you for the tea." She said curtly, before leaving the room. Hermione was baffled about what had just happened. Lucius had quite clearly touched a nerve by mentioning Pansy, and she suspected that it was something to do with the end of their engagement. She had forgotten all about their mysterious past, but her interest was well and truly piqued.

Draco was stood outside underneath an impressive oak tree, his back pressed against the tree and his eyes closed. Hermione approached him slowly and cautiously, wanting to avoid any confrontation between them; their armistice was too fresh to be tested. He opened his eyes when she drew near and rounded on her viciously, but before he could speak Hermione held up her hands.

"I won't ask you any questions." She told him quietly. "But I would like to know if you're alright." The fight drained out of him and he sat on the floor with a thud, beckoning Hermione to come and join him. She curled her legs underneath her and sat at the opposite side of the tree.

"I'm fine…but my father…he is so…so…"

"Evil? Nasty? Spiteful?" Draco laughed quietly and cruelly.

"Those are a few words to describe him, yes." The wind rustled the leaves on the trees and Draco's sigh echoed it.

"He won't be so smug when he's handing over his millions to us." Hermione replied harshly. "I'll take great pleasure in taking his money and seeing him helpless like we are now."

"I wish we could find a way to make him suffer physically too." His tone was bitter, and Hermione could sense years' worth of hatred bubbling to the surface.

"Whilst we're looking for a way to get rid of the pain, we'll look for a way to deflect it onto him. I'm sure it can be done, it will just take a little extra research that's all."

"I don't care how long it takes; I just want them to pay for this."

* * *

_Author's Note: A quick word about the German i used in this chapter. I study German and earn good marks in it, so i'm fairly confident that these phrases are correct - i heartily apoloigse if they aren't, please feel free to correct me._

_Kneipe - pubs  
Guten Morgen - Good morning  
Wie kann ich ihnen helfen? - How can i help you?  
Leider Nicht - Unfortunately not._


	9. Nine

Hermione's dream of stopping the torture and breaking the marriage contract seemed closer to reality with the help of the new and improved Draco Malfoy. Not only was he enthusiastic and passionate about their goal, he was also willing to put in long hours and work his hardest. Hermione was shocked to find him waiting for her when she finished work, just a week after they had returned from Berlin. He was standing nonchalantly in the entrance hall of the ministry, his hands wedged into the pockets of his overcoat, seemingly ignorant to the fact that several passing witches were staring, enchanted, at him. Hermione walked over, smiling awkwardly and wondering what he was doing there.

"I thought we could go and get those books from Potter, you know, so we can get to work sooner." Hermione had to admit (albeit reluctantly) that she was impressed by his sudden and drastic change of heart.

12 Grimmauld Place had not changed since the days when the Order had first moved in, although it was much cleaner and brighter. Hermione suspected that, although Harry hated it, he didn't want to change much because it had been Sirius' home. Draco was grimacing before they had even entered the house, and he was in the process of telling her how disgusting it was when the door opened. Hermione's face fell when she saw Ron stood in the doorway, looking absolutely furious. Draco smirked when he saw him and took hold of Hermione's hand.

"We're here to pay a visit to Potter, are you his butler Weasel?" Hermione snatched her hand away and looked beseechingly up at her old friend.

"Ron…" She didn't get much further, because he stepped backwards and motioned jerkily into the house.

"He's in the kitchen" As they stepped into the house, Draco shrugged his coat off and proffered it to Ron.

"Hang it up somewhere." Ron started towards him, an ugly look on his face, and Hermione stepped between them. Ron looked as though he expected a long lecture from Hermione, and even seemed dismayed when she turned to Draco first.

"He isn't a servant!" She snapped. "Draco, you _must_act civilly towards him!"

"And why should I?"

"Because I've asked you to!" Draco shrugged.

"Fine. I need to be in your good graces if I'm to ever get things sorted." Ron was staring at them in disgust.

"Don't force him for my sake." He muttered. "You stopped caring about me when you started socialising with him, there's no need to pretend now."

It was lucky that Ron had darted into the kitchen during this little speech, for Hermione was filled with instant fury. She stalked after him into the kitchen, her wand clenched in her right hand, with Draco meekly following on her heels.

"_How dare you_!" She hollered. "For all of these years I have done nothing _but_care for you! If it wasn't for me you wouldn't have even graduated from Hogwarts, let alone survived the bloody war! How many times did I clean after you, rectify your mistakes, and do your homework? If it's anybody who doesn't care it's YOU! You have been so quick to turn your back on me, simply because of situations out of my control! You have always been a selfish, pig-headed little git and you have the manners of a troll!" A hefty silence hung in the air and the tension was as thick as the dust that covered many of the surfaces.

"Er…hi Hermione." A nervous voice piped up. "I didn't know you would be visiting this evening." Harry Potter was sat at the kitchen table, nursing a large mug of murky tea and apparently making his way through a muggle newspaper.

"I'm sorry…it was a last minute thing." Ron shifted anxiously, his ears still burning bright red. He glared at Draco before picking up a second mug that stood on the counter.

"I'm going upstairs, mate." He sloped off, ignoring everyone in the room but Harry.

With him gone the tension was alleviated, although Harry was glowering at Draco with suspicion. Hermione sat down at the kitchen table and Harry closed his newspaper.

"He's living with you?" She asked, looking at the door as though he would burst back through it.

"Yep. He couldn't afford to pay the rent on his flat and so had to move out. We've got enough room so…"

"Of course. But doesn't Ginny mind him being here? I can't imagine it's easy for you to have him living under the same roof, especially with you being newly married and all."

"You would know all about that I suppose. Having Lucius Malfoy next door would certainly kill my libido." Hermione flushed red, out of embarrassment or anger Draco couldn't tell.

"It isn't like that." She mumbled. "You know that this marriage isn't out of choice and, besides, we live in my flat."

Harry didn't make any more suggestions about Hermione and Draco's sex life, simply because Hermione began to talk about books. Following his auror training, Harry began to add to the Black library; he had bought all sorts of book about the dark arts and also about combating them. It was these books that Hermione wanted to look at. Draco sat interestedly as Harry asked Hermione why she needed them.

"I…we…I can't tell you." This didn't help the relationship between Draco and Harry any, because he instantly suspected Draco.

"What has he done? Has he hurt you Hermione? Because I'll kill him, I'll transfigure him permanently into a ferret." Hermione shook her head, tight-lipped.

"No, he hasn't hurt me. I can't tell you the reason Harry, but you'll have to trust me. We need to have a look at them, and maybe use the cellar to practice something…" Harry looked dubious, but he didn't want to be on the receiving end of one of Hermione's cutting insults – Ron had suffered enough for the both of them.

"That's fine. You can use it whenever you like, just try to keep the bathroom clean. Ginny's become really finicky about it, ever since she got pregnant, and she has a fit if it isn't spotless." Hermione nodded sympathetically.

"I wouldn't dream of messing it up, I know what Ginny's like."

They were showed into the library and left alone. Hermione wasted no time in picking a book from the shelf and sitting down on the threadbare rug, lounging in front of the fire, whilst Draco wandered around the room. He eventually picked one and sat down on the rug next to her.

"What exactly are we looking for?" Hermione's nose was buried in the book, and at first she did not reply. He repeated his question tentatively.

"What? I'm sorry, when I start to read it takes a lot to distract me." She placed the book upside down on the floor, keeping her page. "Well, if we just look for tips on how to fight the curse…Anything you find useful, make a note of it." She grabbed a scrap of parchment and a quill from the desk, placing it between them.

"Right. This might be helpful…it's a book about – "

"Will you be _quiet_?" She snapped. Draco looked as though he would answer back, but he though better of it; Hermione's temper was, after all, rather scary.

In the hours that passed, Draco was not as focused as he should have been. He was uncomfortable being in Potter's house; the books were boring, he was tired and the crackling warmth of the fire seemed to only increase his fatigue. Half an hour into their research he had moved to sit in an armchair, and he could have quite happily fallen asleep where he was. Closing the book quietly, he looked down at Hermione who was led on the floor with her back facing him, seemingly poring over her book. Would she mind if they went home now? If he had to stay there much longer, he would be asleep. He cleared his throat and prepared to ask her, but was prevented from doing so by a loud and unladylike snort.

_She's asleep!_Draco thought, I've_been sitting here trying to stay awake, and she has fallen asleep; how inconsiderate!_

Stretching his arms above his head, he did not realise that his eyes were making a surreptitious scan of her body. She had shapely legs, a plump bottom and a small waist – a feminine figure that had taken him by great surprise when he first encountered it. He was forced to admit that she, for a man of less refined taste, would be a catch indeed, but was definitely below Draco's usual standards. Affairs with models that had graced the cover of Witch Weekly, stunning heiresses, a bewitching Veela and even a lithe and flexible Quidditch player had dotted his romantic history; Hermione Granger certainly did not fit into any of those categories, and yet he did not look upon their weekly 'meetings' with as much disgust as he pretended to. Thinking of the next night that they would spend together, he smirked filthily – as long as she was his wife, he would enjoy the privileges. What did it matter that he didn't really fancy her?

His musings, and Hermione's slumber, were harshly shattered by a flood of light entering the library. Harry stood in the doorway holding two mugs, looking stunned and a little shaken. Draco panicked when he realised that Harry had probably seen his leering and flushed a little, scrambling to his feet.

"She fell asleep." He muttered. Harry walked into the room and put the mugs down on a small table, before crouching by the sleeping witch.

"Hermione," He whispered. "I've brought you a cup of coffee." Draco watched nervously as Hermione's eyes flickered open and she sat up.

"Thank you." She looked at Draco accusingly. "I didn't realise I'd fallen asleep."

"Well…"

"Hermione!" Everyone turned to see a heavily pregnant Ginny standing in the doorway, her hands resting on her stomach. "I've just got home from The Burrow, what are you doing here?" Hermione went to hug the girl, and they began chatting pleasantly.

"I think we'll call it a night, Draco. I'm just going to look at the nursery with Ginny and then we can go home…if that's alright?"

"Yes." Draco replied quickly. "That's fine…I'll just…get a few books to take…"

Hermione and Ginny left the room, leaving the two men alone. Draco tried to busy himself, hoping that Harry was just as interested in baby things and would soon be leaving him alone.

"I saw you." Harry said suddenly. "I saw you looking at her like…like that." Draco cleared his throat and scratched his neck indifferently.

"So what, Potter? She's my wife."

"I don't care." Their voices were hushed and biting. "You're not in a real relationship, you're not in love…you don't even_like_ her. I've heard your reputation, and if you try anything with her, Malfoy, I swear…my threats aren't empty, I'd kill you" Draco shrugged and picked up the books they had been reading. He was close to losing his temper, he would probably hex Potter and then he would have to explain to her why they were arguing…he wished that the chattering women would just return. Thankfully, someone must have been listening to his silent prayers for Hermione appeared in the doorway.

"It's lovely, Harry!" She trilled. "You must have been working ever so hard on it!" Harry smiled, watching levelly as Hermione went over and took the books from Draco; he tried not to flinch when the blonde put a hand on the small of her back.

"You can come back whenever you like, and I'll clear the cellar out so you can use it for…whatever it is you're doing."

"Are we able to disapparate directly from here?" Draco asked quickly.

"Yes!" Ginny replied, smiling. "You can apparate straight in here too, any time you like. Just as long as you – "

"Keep the bathroom tidy?" Hermione asked. Ginny, Harry and Hermione laughed, before they made their goodbyes and disapparated.

When they arrived back at the flat, Draco slumped straight onto the sofa as Hermione tidied their borrowed books away. She came and sat on the arm chair, staring at him steadily in silence.

"What's the matter?" He asked snidely. "Was I not on my best behaviour?"

"What were you and Harry whispering about?" Draco blanched a little and looked away, fixing his eyes on the clock behind her head.

"Nothing. We weren't whispering."

"You _were._Ginny and I heard you, and Harry looked miserable when we came back into the library."

"It was just Potter, issuing me with more unnecessary warnings. You would think that I was trying to assassinate you, the way he was harping on." Hermione threw a cushion at him, laughing playfully. He breathed a sigh of relief, the danger had clearly been averted.

"He cares about me, that's all! Besides, if you and I ever had to duel…I would win." Draco scoffed, shaking his head.

"Unlikely! I have been trained in duels since the age of seven, you would have no chance."

"Oh really? Well, I'll have you know that my _expelliarmus_ is quite – " Hermione was stopped by a familiar and unwelcome surge of pain, and she looked at Draco wearily. "Honestly, all I want to do is _sleep_. This is just…we need to sort this out quickly." Draco stood up, looking equally as sleepy, and extended a hand.

"I agree. However, unfortunately, our weekly duty is more pressing."

"My mother has always said to me 'never mind your happiness; do your duty'." Hermione replied, laughing pathetically. "Isn't that typical?" A second wave of pain passed through them.

"It is, and I sincerely hope that your mother does not teach that phrase to mine! Now to bed, my lady?" Hermione smiled weakly and took his hand. As Draco led her off to the bedroom, he couldn't resist a grin of triumph.

_If only Potter could see,_ he thought, _the look on his face would be priceless_.


	10. Ten

Working to try and fight the Imperius curse was difficult, especially as Draco could not see Hermione's logic. He suddenly became awkward and uncooperative and, following their altercation, Hermione had to check that Ron would be absent when they went to Grimmauld Place to practice. Draco's enthusiasm also wavered with the task that he was set; if he was the one casting the curse he would be perfectly happy to comply, but if it was Hermione's turn he would find other things that he simply 'had to do'. Somehow, however, Hermione and Draco had managed to successfully throw off the curse after a month-long practice. They stood in the cellar of Grimmauld Place one evening, when Hermione declared this to him.

"Do you honestly think it will work?" He asked, looking dubious. "I mean…the pain isn't actually forcing us to do anything…we simply respond to it. Wouldn't it have been worth researching the Cruciatus curse?" Hermione shook her head.

"It's impossible to throw that off. _That_ curse implants itself so deeply into your body, your mind and your soul that it is not possible to overthrow, whereas the Imperius curse only affects your muscles, making it easier to manage. The pain doesn't affect our soul, which is why I ignored Cruciatus." He clambered to his feet, huffing slightly.

"One last practice and then that's it?"

"Yes, just one more. Try and make it particularly fierce this time." She smirked. "Imagine you hate me."

"Well that should be fairly easy, considering I've loathed you since the age of twelve."

Hermione shrugged her shoulders and steeled herself for the attack on her person. The curse was certainly forceful, but she managed to throw it off with relative ease. Draco had made her stand on the very tips of her toes and pirouette around the room, like a ballet dancer with a grace that Hermione certainly didn't normally posses. When she recovered fully, Hermione was grinning.

"I've always wanted to do that! I wish I'd managed to do it without the aid of magic, though."

Draco ran a hand through his hair and sighed, preparing himself for the onslaught. Hermione pointed her wand at him and cried "_Imperio_!" He promptly began dancing around the room, as though waltzing with an invisible party. Hermione let out a burst of laughter as he swept her into his arms and continued the waltz.

"I take it you managed to throw it off?" She asked wryly, as they danced to no music.

"I did, why else would I be dancing with you?"

She laughed again as he twirled her around, but the laughing ended when he pulled her close. Her heart was hammering, and she swore that she could feel his heart beating too. His hand was on her waist, and she was acutely aware that she was pressed tightly against him. Hermione tilted her head up to him and looked into his eyes, which seemed to be glinting teasingly, as though demanding her to close the gap and kiss him. A voice in her head was protesting loudly, but her body seemed to be ignoring it. She was so close….He stepped away from her, shattering the silence and ruining the moment.

"Is that it then?" He asked, somewhat cockily. "Are we finished?"

"I…I think so…" Hermione's heart was still thudding loudly; she wondered how it was that he couldn't hear it.

"Good. We'll find out if it works next week won't we? Now…are you going to stop here for dinner again tonight? Or will you be coming back to the flat and making me something?" Hermione looked at the floor shyly, trying with great difficulty to retain her composure.

"I…You're impossibly lazy!" She had meant to sound light-hearted and teasing, but instead she sounded snappy and irritable. "But no, actually, I'm doing neither. I have to find myself something to wear for my father's ridiculous birthday party, so I'll be going to Diagon Alley." Draco looked somewhat put out, but he shrugged nonchalantly.

"That's fine. I'll go to Malfoy Manor. I have it on good authority that the house elves are making steak and kidney pie this evening, feel free to join us when you've finished."

Hermione grimaced. Draco had, unbelievably, managed to maintain his relationship with his mother. He still went for dinner once a week, but only if his father would be out of the house – it was obviously one of those nights. Hermione, however, hadn't spoken to her mother, father, Narcissa or Lucius since that afternoon tea; her pride wouldn't allow her to.

"That's alright. I'll get something from the Leaky Cauldron. See you later then?"

"Yes. I'll bring home a bottle of white wine, if you're lucky." Hermione smiled weakly, unable to match his pleasant tone.

"That would be lovely, thank you."

As Hermione walked to Madam Malkin's (she needed the walk to think) she tried to shove what had happened from her mind. It was a completely unreasonable reaction to what had been a little joke, and she was all too aware that Draco knew how perilously close she had come to making a fool of herself. Shaking her head, she vowed silently that she would not get herself into another position like that. Her truce with Draco was forced, fragile and probably fleeting, and if she had finished her action…well, the whole thing would be ruined. It began raining as she ducked into Marylebone Tube Station, dodging a tramp as she did, and it only served to irritate her more. Everything seemed to be against her: Draco, her own mind, the weather, the undying crowds of tourists and even the homeless of London. She wanted to scream aloud as she waited on the platform for the tube, but instead settled for glaring at anyone unfortunate enough to meet her eye. It was going to be a long night, but, with any luck Draco would be asleep when she returned home. And she would be left alone with the wine and the big box of chocolates that she would get from Thornton's on the way home; it was a small appeasement, but she knew that she would feel better for it.

Felix Divits' fiftieth birthday party had been excitedly talked about since his return to the magical world. Apparently, the Divits family had quite a reputation for throwing parties that were lavish, wild and sinful. Hermione had a hard time believing that, for her parents had always been the boring type – this had all changed, of course, but it was still taking some time to get used to it. If it wasn't for the media coverage, her father's persistent begging and Draco's requests, she wouldn't have been attending but, as it was, she had found herself succumbing to the pressure. A dress had been procured, and she was thankful that it was not gaudy and much more to her taste than the last formal robe she wore. Arriving early to her parents' house, she saw that the rumours were right. Not only did they have peacocks on the front lawn, but they also had unicorns tethered to the stairs with shimmering silver thread. Hermione was tempted to untie them, as a vindictive form of revenge, but Draco saw the malicious look on her face and steered her away.

When the guests started arriving, Hermione was annoyed to find that they were simply more people that she didn't know. But they definitely knew her. As she hovered in the corner, clutching her glass of rosé, she tried to ignore the gazing guests and their apparent disapproving mutters; it was common knowledge that Hermione Divits was neglecting her pureblood roots. Draco found it hilarious, which only increased her frustration with him that had started on that night when she nearly lost control. He brought her a second glass of wine, taking the empty one away with a flourish and a wink at a passing waitress.

"Careful!" Hermione chided. "You don't want to set it off, do you?" He smirked and took a sip of his own drink.

"So are you stalking about in the corner to avoid my father?"

"Yes." She huffed. "I have no wish to speak to _that man_. I've made an exception for my father, because it's his birthday, but he isn't getting one minute of my time." Draco slung an arm around her shoulder and she shot him a withering look.

"Come now, try and get along with him, my darling wife!" Hermione shrugged his arm off, and sighed.

"You're ridiculous."

"And you are boring. Come and dance with me?" He held out his hand and she took it, trying ardently to ignore the fact that her heartbeat quickened a little.

The band, some old-fashioned wizard band that Hermione had never heard of, struck up a slow jazzy number as Draco led her into the middle of the ballroom. Hermione spotted her mother and Narcissa looking appreciatively at them, both wearing identical soppy grins on their faces. Hermione suppressed a shudder as Draco's hands moved up her bare back.

"This music is ghastly." He whispered. "What _was_your father thinking?"

"He clearly wasn't." They spun around, and Hermione's curiosity was piqued by what she saw. The doors to the ballroom were open slightly, and Hermione had a direct view into the hallway. Lucius was standing in the darkness, towering menacingly over a fat and rather flustered looking man in a bowler hat. Hermione recognised him as the man who had performed their wedding ceremony, and she watched as they began to argue.

"What has got you so enraptured?" Draco asked silkily, his hands dwindling on the lower part of her back. "You're neglecting me. What is it you're looking at?" Hermione urged him to turn back around, so that he could see what she had.

"Do you see him? Your father…he's threatening that man."

"That's the ugly git that got us into this predicament, isn't it? What is he doing here? Surely he wasn't invited to your father's party?" Hermione spotted her father charging towards the door, looking thunderous as he entered the hallway. She let out a sigh of disappointment as the door closed behind him.

"We have to find out his name…it could be important, I think." Draco looked down at her and raised an eyebrow.

"Important? How could it possibly be important to know the name of a podgy balding ministry official?"

"In our court case! We need to know who performed the ceremony, don't we? Why don't you find out from your mother? She'll tell her if you use your usual charm to manipulate her."

"My usual charm, hm?" He looked smug with himself as Hermione flustered. "Do you find me charming, Mrs Malfoy?"

"No. At the moment you're irritating me. Go and speak to your mother, when this song finishes."

The song ended and Draco sloped off to his mother. Hermione watched from across the room, in her seat next to the buffet table. She was surprised when Pansy Crabbe walked over to her, looking cheery and carrying two glasses of wine.

"For you," she said, proffering a glass. "I thought you might need one after dancing with Draco. It always used to exhaust me when we danced together, he's awful."

"I thought he was alright." Hermione replied somewhat absentmindedly, as she tried to gage how the conversation with Narcissa was going.

"How are you getting on? Have you and Draco resolved your issues yet?"

"Well, I still find him to be a snob if that's what you mean. Other than that…we're getting along better."

"That's good. Draco is ever so difficult sometimes, but it's worth it when you try…" Hermione noticed that she pulled a face, before she recovered herself and took a sip of wine.

"How long have you and Crabbe been married?" Hermione asked, feigning interest.

"Oh…about six months. It's…he's…well it isn't a love match, let me just put it that way." Hermione nodded her head.

"If there's anyone in this room who can empathise with you, it's me." The girls fell into silence, until Draco approached looking triumphant. Pansy leapt to her feet, looking as though she had been caught at the scene of a crime.

"Hermione and I were just…we were…"

"Good evening Pansy." His voice was icy and the look on his face would have had Hermione running for her life.

"_Oh Draco!_Have you still not forgiven me? I know that I shouldn't have kept it a secret from you…but my reasons were just – I swear! Your parents just want what is best for you, your mother is concerned for you and your father – "

"I don't want to speak about my father." He spat. "Now get away from us, I want to speak to my _wife_." Pansy looked miserable as she walked over to Crabbe who was laughing heartily with one of the other guests.

"Did you find out?" Hermione asked hurriedly. "Did she tell you?"

"Yes. It was surprisingly easy, but then her tongue always was looser after a few glasses of Champagne…Anyway, his name is Humphrey Beaufort."

"Excellent! We'll have to dig up some dirt about him, then!"

The band struck up again, and Draco held his hand out. She looked at it warily for a moment, considering whether it was such a good idea. He smirked at her.

"I don't bite, Hermione! Now come and dance, before I am forced to use my husbandly powers and order you to." Hermione rolled her eyes and took his hand again, allowing him to lead her to the dance floor.

"I won't be permitted to dance with you again." She mumbled. "This is the second dance. Any more and my behaviour will be simply uncouth, the purebloods will be in uproar, and it will signal the end of the wizarding world!" Draco threw his head back and laughed.

"I should be offended at your outright mockery of our traditions, but when you get it wrong I find that I don't have the heart. We're married, and so perfectly allowed to dance more than twice. What does it matter if I'm showing a particular partialness when I'm married to you?" She smiled and rested her head on his shoulder, the several glasses of wine finally causing her to drop her defences.

"You're a comfortable pillow."

"I'd gathered, seeing as you always wake up with your head on my chest." She flushed a little, but her face was hidden from his view. He let out a gentle sigh and Hermione smiled, until she realised that her behaviour was spiralling towards the inappropriate once more. She lifted her head and, as she did, felt a shoot of pain. Draco looked down at her sharply; his grey eyes wide and panic clear in them.

"No!" She hissed. "It can't happen now! We're not prepared…we can't just…oh Merlin!" Draco looked around at the guests in the room, but thankfully no one had noticed anything amiss.

"Perhaps we could escape…get out of here before it starts getting bad. Thankfully we're close at the moment, so if we stay like this until we get to the door…" Hermione let out a groan that was muffled by his shoulder as a second wave passed through them.

"Good plan. Lead the way…quickly!"

They span towards the door, their elaborate twirls looking nothing more than fancy footwork to the gathered guests. She twirled past her father and pointedly ignored his smile. Unfortunately Rita Skeeter was stood by the door, her green quill floating beside her, and she looked positively hungry when they walked past her.

"Mr Malfoy! Could I have a quick word?"

"What?" He asked testily, as she grinned at Hermione with ruby red lips.

"How have you enjoyed the party so far? And why are you both off to bed _so_ early?" Draco raised his eyebrows and smirked suggestively, just as the camera snapped.

"The party has been enjoyable, but I'm sure I'll find much more _pleasure_ in my bed…" He grasped onto her hand and pulled her, leaving Hermione to look helplessly behind her.

"That will be front page news!" She shrieked. "Ronald will never be my friend again!"

"I think you put an end to _tha_t friendship when you hexed him, dearest wife. Now, if you don't mind, I would quite like to put an end to our pain. Off we go."

In the bedroom, Hermione and Draco stood stock still in the familiar position that they had practiced. Legs apart, shoulders back and head held high – a position used entirely for self defence.

"Remember!" She cried, her knees wobbling as another wave of pain passed through her. "Keep your mind focused, tell yourself 'no!' you don't want pain, and your body should respond…" Hermione screwed up her eyes and thought with all of her might, her fists balled. _No,_she thought, _I will not be in pain because of this. I won't succumb to Lucius' ridiculous spell. This curse has no power over me and I am free of pain. NO!_Her whole body was shaking now, the curse not altering at all in its strength of pain – it was only getting worse. She let out a gasp and her legs gave way, throwing her to the floor with a thump. Draco opened his eyes and shook his head.

"It isn't _working_!" He grunted. "It just isn't working!"

"It has to!" Hermione sobbed, clutching onto her finger. "It _has_to!" Draco tore across the room and fell to the floor next to her, before grabbing her and kissing her forcefully.

"I'm sorry, but we have no other choice now. We failed, it didn't work, and this isn't the way to defeat it…" Hermione shook her head and fell on him, tangling her hands in his blonde hair and wishing that they had been successful.

It wasn't just the pain that she wanted to defeat. Her feelings were becoming just as raw, surprising and unmanageable. She needed to squash them, before they overtook her completely.


	11. Eleven

_**E**__**ARLY TO BED: THE INSIDE SCOOP ON A PUREBLOOD MARRIAGE**_

_By Rita Skeeter – Gossip columnist_

_Last night at the mot celebrated party of the year, we caught a rare glimpse into the perfect married life of one of the most influential couples of the wizarding world: Mr and Mrs Draco Malfoy. The couple has been married only three months, but they look happy after what appeared to be a tricky past! We spoke to one of Mr Malfoy's closest friends, Gregory Goyle, about their history._

"_Draco hated Hermione at school, they were always arguing. She slapped him once, I remember. But when he found out she was pureblood, well, their marriage just made sense; didn't it? A Malfoy and a Divitis? Match made in heaven, if you ask me!" It certainly looked that way to anyone who had the honour of being at Felix Divitis' fiftieth birthday party last night! The couple danced together twice, but when they weren't strutting their stuff on the dance floor they were huddled in a corner together! Mrs Malfoy couldn't keep her hands off her dishy husband – and who can blame her? Lucky girl! It was only 10 O'clock when the blissful couple left the party for bed, and I had the opportunity to speak to Mr Malfoy. He retorted with a witty response and told us:_

"_The party has been enjoyable, but I'm sure I'll find much more pleasure in my bed!" This will certainly dispel any rumours that the couple are unhappily married, and the pictures below are photographic evidence of the bliss of Mr and Mrs Malfoy! Next week: What__**is**__the truth behind the Divitis' mysterious disappearance, and what did they do during their time in the Muggle world? We find out!_

_

* * *

_

Hermione looked moodily at the pictures below the article and shook her head. Draco had laughed aloud when he saw the article, but Hermione was more than bitter about it.

"I absolutely despise that woman! It was the worst mistake I ever made, letting her loose on the wizarding world again. She writes nothing but detestable dross!" She threw the paper back at her 'dishy husband' with a grimace.

"I look handsome in those pictures; it's a shame you're in them."

"I look just fine, thank you very much!" Her head flopped back onto the pillow and she groaned. "What will Harry and Ron say?" Draco stretched with a smirk as he read the article again.

"My comments are always so witty! Do I sound that sharp in normal conversation?"

"No. You simply sound arrogant." Hermione swung her legs from the bed and climbed out, ignoring the fact that she was not wearing any clothes – her inhibitions around Malfoy had long since disappeared. "I'm going to have to see Ginny. She'll know what to do about this."

"What do you mean? There are more important things to discuss than our supposed voraciously passionate marriage!" Hermione scowled at him and picked up a dressing gown that hung on the back of the door. She flicked her hair out from underneath it, feeling her cheeks blush as he unguardedly admired her.

"I wish you wouldn't do that."

"Do what?" He asked innocently. She shook her head and walked through the door into the bathroom. He knew full well what he was doing, and it was that fact that irritated Hermione the most.

Eager reporters were gathered outside 12 Grimmauld Place, and Hermione wondered how they were getting away with it. Curious and confused muggles wandered past, staring at the oddly-dressed people who seemed to be writing with quills.

"Hermione! Would you give Witch Weekly an exclusive? What _is_Draco Malfoy like in bed?" Hermione shook her head with disgust and pushed past them, knocking on the door of the house and wishing that it would swallow her whole. The door opened and Ginny was stood there in her pyjamas, wincing at the various flashes.

"I should have realised you would bring the paparazzi. I presumed you would be coming, what with that wonderful article this morning…"

"Oh Ginny, just let me in! _Please_!" Ginny stepped out of the way and Hermione hurried into the house, straight into the sitting room.

Harry was sat on the sofa and he pulled a face when she entered. Hermione was suddenly struck with a feeling of nervousness, worried at what her friends would say. Would they still talk to her? Would they be able to help her?

"Are the press congregated outside?" Harry asked Ginny, who replied with a curt nod. "I thought they would be."

"I need to talk to you, about that article."

"Are you going to tell us that you weren't going to bed with him?" Ginny asked. Hermione was surprised that her voice didn't sound disapproving, but merely amused. She made a sudden decision. Draco wouldn't like it, but she decided that it was necessary.

"I'm not going to lie. I did sleep with Malfoy last night." Harry leapt to his feet, looking outraged.

"You _slept with him_? How could you? I thought that you didn't want any of this, you said that this wasn't your choice!"

"And it isn't!" Hermione replied calmly. "It isn't my choice, nor is it Draco's."

Harry and Ginny fell silent as she explained the situation to them. She told them about Lucius, about the scars, Berlin, the Imperius curse and even about last night. Ginny let out a low whistle once Hermione had finished speaking, and Harry was shaking his head.

"That's sick, Hermione! Why haven't you gone to the ministry?"

"They're useless, Harry, you know that. I may work for them, but I know that they wouldn't do anything to help me. Lucius has millions of galleons to offer them, I simply sort out paperwork." She shook her head.

"So that's what you've been doing in our basement? Using the Imperius curse on one another?"

"That's right. I'm sorry I didn't tell you…but I used what little power I have at the ministry to remove the trace of Dark Magic on this house. As far as they're concerned, nothing untoward has been happening." Ginny looked somewhat relieved.

"Good, I wouldn't want my baby's godmother in Azkaban when it's born." Hermione smiled weakly.

"So now you know everything, and you know why it is so important for me to fight this. That's why I need your help." Harry and Ginny looked mildly interested by this. "I need you to find out information about Humphrey Beaufort. He's a ministry official, the official that performed our wedding ceremony. I think there is something dodgy about him, because he was arguing with Lucius at my father's party last night." Harry was looking thoughtful, and he bit his lip.

"I think I've heard Ron talk about him, you know. I'll get him to look into it, without telling him what it's for, of course." Hermione hugged him gratefully. "Speaking of Ron, he said he was going to come downstairs in ten minutes. I'll go and distract him for a bit, he'll kill you if he sees you."

When Harry left the room, Ginny shut the door and leant against it, looking at Hermione with a wryly amused expression on her face. Hermione felt somewhat discomfited as she sat there, squirming under Ginny's gaze.

"It's so obvious!" Ginny squeaked suddenly. "I'd thought, you know, all of those times you were here…the way you acted…the way he looked at you…but those pictures just confirm it!"

"What are you on about, Ginny? You aren't making any sense."

"You _like_him. Amidst all of this forced marriage and sex business, you've gone and fell for him, haven't you? The expression on your face when you're dancing! You look besotted!" She shoved a copy of the paper under her nose and let out an uncharacteristic giggle. "He's on his way to being the same, I think. It's so obvious!" Hermione was shaking her head fiercely.

"That's not true! Draco and I have put on an act…to fool people…and our parents! Honestly, Ginny, I have no feelings for him…none at all." The little twinge in Hermione's heart reminded her that she was blatantly lying, lying to her best friend about a subject that she should have been open about.

"That may be the fact now, but give it a few more weeks…It's a little romantic, your story, don't you think? Evil parents, foisting him upon you, forcing you to do unspeakable things and yet you fall in love at the end! It's lovely, really."

"No it isn't. It's far from lovely, Ginny. If it was you…if you were in my position…you wouldn't be happy about it." Ginny grinned wolfishly, shaking her head.

"You can try and lie all you like, but I don't believe you for a second. It's just like those muggle film things that Harry and I have watched – and it'll end like them too. I give it a couple of weeks before you're back here, tail between your legs, telling me how you really have fallen for him!"

Hermione left Grimmauld Place feeling chagrined and somewhat sour. She stormed through Muggle London with a bitter expression on her face, hounded by the persistent paparazzi and trying to dodge the crowds that were even bigger on this hectic Saturday morning. Eventually she had to give up, even though it had been her aim to do a bit of food shopping, and disapparated. However she did not return to the flat, but instead went to the small village that had, up until recently, been home. It seemed that the photographers had not managed to trace her, and so she ambled down the hedge-lined lanes as her tension disappeared with the thick city smog. Hermione opened the wrought iron gate leading into the graveyard, and smiled to herself as it gave a familiar creek; Hector, the aging churchwarden, had been battling with the gate since Hermione could remember. It was a pang of familiarity that, for some reason, hit home more than anything else.

The church was silent when Hermione entered it and she would have thought it empty, had she not known that a kindly old lady cleaned the church every Saturday. She slipped into the pew at the front and waited, the bizarre smell of incense and polish tickling her nose. Hermione beamed when a grey haired lady shuffled out of the vestry and started at the sight of her.

"You startled me, dear! My name's Marjorie, I'm just cleaning in here, I…" She blinked behind jam jar glasses before gasping. "Is that…no, it couldn't possibly be…Hermione? Is that Hermione Granger?" Hermione nodded emphatically.

"Yes…I thought I'd pay you a visit, Marje." The old woman bustled forwards, as Hermione stood up, and threw her arms around her.

"My dear! I haven't seen you in; oh…it must be about two years! Where have you been? What have you been doing? I was ever so surprised when your parents just upped and moved two months ago. Very odd it was. We were having tea after church one Sunday, and they told me that it was your 21st birthday in a week! They didn't mention anything about moving, but exactly a week after they had gone and the house was up for sale!" Hermione let out a weary sigh.

"My parents are…they're being rather awkward at the moment."

"Why dearest?" Marjorie was distracted, however, when she spotted the ring on Hermione's left hand. Whenever Hermione went out into public, she wore a ring over the scar to avoid any awkward questions; it was her grandmother's wedding ring and, she found out only recently, was goblin-made. "Are you married?"

"Yes…I got married in September." Marjorie gasped loudly and pulled the girl close to her again.

"A bride! Oh my dear! A bride! Why didn't you have the wedding in the church? I would have done your flowers for you; some beautiful roses perhaps…"

"Well, the wedding was rather hurried…"

Hermione was ushered back to Marjorie's house for a cup of tea, the cleaning of the church neglected for an hour whilst they chatted. Hermione was reminded vividly of sitting in the very same room with Janine, drinking tea with Marjorie and practicing to be 'proper ladies'.

"So, dear, tell me about your husband." Hermione fought a wince, before taking a deep breath.

"We…uh we met at the boarding school that I went to. He was…well, we didn't get on. Until we met again about um…well a few months ago and I suppose you could say it was…love at first sight." Hermione wanted desperately for this conversation to end; lying to a woman who had cared for her throughout her childhood was painful to say the least.

"I see…what does he do?"

"Do?" Hermione laughed. "He does nothing. His family are filthy rich, so he thinks that entitles him to sit around all day." Hermione daren't complain that he didn't do any housework – Marjorie was strictly old fashioned and had loved nothing more than to wait on her husband, before he died.

"That is the way that men are, dear. Things will look up when you have a baby. And what is his name?"

"Draco. Draco Malfoy. It's an odd name but his parents are…are…um…strange." Hermione forced a smile.

"I see. Well, each to his own they say!" Marjorie suddenly looked grave. "Now, Hermione, there must be another reason for your sudden arrival. I know you, and I can tell that something is the matter. Tell your aunt Marjorie." Hermione blushed, and wringed her hands.

It had been a stupid idea to go there, a ridiculous notion that Marjorie would be able to help her understand her mind. Yes, it had worked when Hermione was eight and didn't know whether to play kiss chase with little Timmy Johnson or Billy Price, but things had changed drastically since then. She was twenty one for a start, and a witch who had left her muggle roots firmly behind – Marjorie would probably have a heart attack if she knew the truth behind Hermione's marriage.

"I…I'm just having doubts about it all…about how I feel and…how everything in my life seems to be changing without my say so." Marjorie tapped her cheek with a sympathetic smile.

"Oh dearie! Your feelings are no different to that of any other bride. Every newlywed woman has these feelings, wondering if there is something better out there, wondering if we've signed our lives away with no hope of ever getting it back. That simply isn't true. It's an old piece of advice, passed from generation to generation, but it still rings true. Follow your heart, dearie, that's all I have to say." Hermione frowned into her teacup, partly wishing that she suddenly had the knack of divination and could see where all of this mess would lead her. Marjorie suddenly let out a sigh and clapped her hands together. "I had forgotten that this is Hermione Granger I am talking to! Little Hermione never had any time for matters of the_heart_; she was only concerned with her mind! If that is still the same now, I will tell you to decide with your head! Your mind is a powerful tool and, although it is baffling, it will direct you the right way in the end."

Upon leaving the house, Hermione decided that her journey had been a waste of time and energy. Marjorie had been much more cryptic than she remembered her, and Hermione's emotions were heightened by the reminders of her past. She left the village feeling even _more_confused, tired and lonely. Draco was messing up the kitchen when she arrived at the flat, pointing his wand furiously at the kettle and shouting profanities at it when it didn't respond. She hung up her coat with a sigh and pointed her wand at the kettle too, causing Draco to jump and spin around.

"Where have you _been_?" He whined. "I've been looking for you everywhere! I even went to Potter's house and had to have a cup of tea with that Weasley girl." Hermione felt the blood rush to her cheeks.

"You spoke with Ginny?" She asked, attempting to sound relaxed. "Did she say anything…interesting?"

"Well, she started off with a load of claptrap about how Rita Skeeter is very interesting, but I didn't listen properly." Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, until she looked up and saw his face – it was thunderous. "Then, however, she started to tell me how she really _sympathised_with us, how she and Harry _so wanted_to help us. Can you imagine what she was talking about?"

"I had to tell them. We need as much help we can get, and they're in prime positions to help us! Harry works at the ministry and can wheedle information out of everyone, and Ginny has plenty of time to try and think of ways for us to beat the curse…"

"I don't care!" He hollered, his face looking blotchy as his cheeks flushed red. "I don't want Potter and that silly chit knowing my business! We may have decided to fight this marriage but, until we're successful, _I_am your husband, _I_make the decisions. Do I make myself clear?" Hermione shook her head and rubbed the bridge of her nose, trying to keep calm.

"Just when I think we've finally got somewhere…when I start to hope that you've perhaps changed a little, you revert back to your former supercilious self!" Draco charged over to her and seized her by the shoulders, his brows furrowed and his teeth bared in a sneer.

"What did you expect? That I'd suddenly changed and started to _like_you? Up until September I was still happy in the knowledge that you were an inferior mudblood with terrible hair and teeth and too much knowledge stuffed into your head! You may be pureblood, I may be married to you and we may have sex on a weekly basis but I still hate you!"

Their failure the day before, the Rita Skeeter article, Ginny's words and Marjorie's hapless advice mingled with Draco's harsh words and caused Hermione to do something that she hardly ever did – she cried. It came out as a spontaneous splutter, which caused her to clap her hands over her face and take a deep breath. Draco let go of her shoulders and looked shocked at himself; he looked at his hands as though they didn't belong to him. They stood in silence and shock for a few moments, until Draco pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and held it out. Hermione snatched it from him and began dabbing her eyes, before slipping it into her pocket and sniffing somewhat pompously.

"Have you quite finished?" She asked haughtily.

"I'm…I apologise." He muttered miserably. She nodded tersely.

"Apology accepted. I sincerely hope that you don't do it again. Otherwise, you might find that you have to move back into Malfoy Manor. If you want to get out of this marriage so much, seeing as you _hate me_, it's in your best interests to stay here; wouldn't you agree?" She stomped past him and stood in the doorway, spinning round with a grim look on her face. "You can sleep on the sofa again, tonight. If you really can't stand me, it isn't such a good idea to _share my bed!_"

She closed the door with a hidden grin at the, reluctant, thought that Narcissa and her mother would have been proud – she had successfully taken the upper hand over her pureblood husband.


	12. Twelve

Draco was woken abruptly at seven, only to be staring his guilt in the face. He had not spoken to his wife in a week, and had a constant crick in his neck from sleeping on the sofa. Hermione stood over him, wearing her pyjamas and a snooty look – she would have been menacing, were it not for the extreme bushiness of her hair.

"Get up." She barked testily. "We're going to Hogwarts to do some research. I wrote to Professor Dumbledore and we've go the library to ourselves."

"Do you think I might be able to visit Professor Snape? I haven't spoken to him in a while, and we have a lot to catch up on."

"Yes, as long as you aren't there for hours." Hermione had gone into the kitchen and was waving her wand at various appliances; Draco spotted some toast fly into the toaster and felt his stomach grumble. He stretched his arms above his head and smiled.

"What's for breakfast?" Hermione spun around with a plate in her hand, shot him a filthy look and then padded back into her bedroom.

"Whatever you make for yourself, I suppose." The door shut with a slam.

She appeared an hour later, hair done and her cloak fastened to her chin. Draco was also ready, and they set off for Hogsmeade. The walk up to the school was conducted in silence, and Hermione ensured that she was sat nowhere near him in the vast library. Draco didn't have complaints about any of this; he didn't want to encourage Hermione's ire any more than he already had! He began flicking through the ancient tomes, but after three hours was already bored. His stomach rumbled loudly (he had been unable to make himself any breakfast) and he thought longingly of the tea and biscuits that probably awaited him in Snape's office. He set off to find Hermione. Her head was bent so low over her book that her nose almost brushed the page, and Draco snorted when he wandered over to her.

"What do you want?" She demanded. "If you're only going to laugh at me, I'm not interested."

"I just thought I'd let you know that I'm having a tea break. I'm going to see Professor Snape. Would you like to come with me?"

"I'd rather eat a whole packet of Ton-Tongue Toffee! You go alone, and don't take too long either; we have dozens more books to get through!"

Draco left the library shaking his head, wondering how Hermione had ever managed to get anything else done. How had the girl who was so obsessed with studying and research found the time to defeat Lord Voldemort? It just didn't make sense, and he decided to ask her when they went back to the flat tonight – if she would stay in the room with him for longer than five minutes, of course.

Professor Snape greeted him with the customary handshake, and beckoned him into the familiar office. The anticipated tea and biscuits lay waiting on the desk, and Draco had to fight the urge to pounce on them; his hand shook as he greedily took his cup of Earl Grey and four shortbread biscuits. They talked pleasantly for a while, about work, Draco's parents, and former pupils, until they finally came to the subject of Draco's marriage.

"Now Draco," Snape said casually. "I was extremely surprised to hear of your nuptials in September. Such a curious choice of bride, especially as you used to loathe one another."

"You must have been just as stunned as I was, sir. It was not through choice that I ended up married to Hermione." Snape raised an eyebrow at Malfoy.

"Really? Am I to understand that this was your father's doing?" Snape smirked as he traced his mouth with a finger, "Of course…after finding out that Hermione is the heiress to the Divits' fortune, she must have seemed a tremendous catch for you."

"Yes, I do think that was the case. He and Hermione's father, Felix Divitis, drew up an ancient marriage contract. And so, in accordance with tradition, I was informed only minutes before the ceremony." Draco thought about dunking his biscuit into his tea, (as he had become accustomed to doing at Hermione's) but knew that Professor Snape would not take kindly to it.

"Most unfortunate. How are you and Miss…Mrs Malfoy getting along?"

"Better than we used to, I must say. We have managed to form…an alliance; of sorts…We are trying to combat this marriage."

"You are seeking a divorce?"

"Yes. Our contract is quite unusual…" He wriggled his left hand to show the Professor his finger. "My father has added an element of control to our marriage." He explained to the Professor about the scar, and he seemed somewhat repulsed.

"My sympathies, Draco."

"Sympathies? No, I wouldn't say it was as bad as all that, except…" Draco looked at the door hesitantly, before letting out a gentle sigh. "Except we had a bit of an argument, you see."

"Ah. What did you do?" Draco blushed, which caused Snape's faint smile to grow.

"Well…uh…I might have said that I…that I hated her." Draco rubbed the back of his neck. "And I said that she had horrible hair and…teeth." Snape laughed; a gruff barking sound that Draco hadn't heard since he was a child.

"You _d_o have a way with words, Draco; you must have inherited it from your father."

"What do I do, though? She won't speak to me and, even worse, wouldn't make me any breakfast – I can't _cook_, Severus!" His childish whining only seemed to amuse the potions master more, as he began spluttering into his teacup. Draco folded his arms moodily; this was not the behaviour he expected from his godfather and former professor.

"I apologise. It is just strange how this is the second generation of Malfoy men that I am giving marital advice to. Your father used to drop in on me, lamenting that he had been kicked out of the bed or bemoaning the fact that Narcissa was avoiding him. Would I be right in saying that you are sleeping on the couch?"

"Please stop mocking me, sir! What did you tell my father to do? What will stop Hermione from acting like this? I won't be able to survive without any lunch or dinner…It's been a week already!"

"Appeal to her better nature. Apologise, simper, _schmooze_ in that dreadful way you Malfoys have; it should come easy to you, it did to your father."

"What do you think about flowers? Would they work, do you think?"

"Draco, flowers _always_work. Have you never leant anything from observing your parents?"

Draco stayed for a further fifteen minutes, before he became anxious that Hermione would be waiting for him to return. He thanked Severus for the tea and biscuits, said that he would write to him, and promise that they would go out for a drink one evening. Just as Draco was leaving the office, Snape smirked at him with a malicious glint in his eye.

"I'll be writing to your father, to say that I have spoken to you." He drawled. "I'm sure he will be pleased to hear that you are, what is the expression…henpecked. In fact, he will be even more delighted to hear how very much like him you are." Draco gaped at him, just as he shut the door in his face.

Thankfully, Hermione was not waiting to berate him for being too long. She was stood outside of the library, books in hand, seemingly ready to leave. Draco beamed at her warily and presented the flowers (that had been transfigured from a mop) with a flourish. She looked cautiously at the pink tulips but took them, sniffing them tentatively.

"They're lovely…but out of season." Draco looked wounded for a moment, before she smiled. "Thank you." As they walked down to Hogsmeade Draco offered her his arm and she took it, which made him beam – he certainly had managed to 'schmooze' like his father.

"Have you found anything of use?" He enquired carefully, looking down at her.

"Yes, well, I think so. A few books about defensive spells, anti-curses, that kind of thing. There's something I want to do though…I'd like to tell my boss, Zachary, about our problem." Draco nodded thoughtfully. "He might be able to help us…working for the ministry and all. I thought we'd go now, get it over with."

"That's a good idea. I told Professor Snape…he said he would assist where he could." Hermione gasped as Draco seized her hand and fell to his knees in front of her.

"What are you _doing_?" She asked, almost dropping the flowers in shock. "Have you lost your mind?"

"I want to apologise properly, for the way I treated you last week. I _did_think those things about you, when we were at school, but I don't anymore. I only said them to annoy you. I'm sincerely sorry." Hermione sighed and avoided his eye, feeling quite awkward that Draco was on bent knee before her – it seemed ever so melodramatic.

"It's alright…just stand up…_please_." Draco clambered to his feet and they started walking again; Hermione smiled wryly. "You've been taking advice from Professor Snape, haven't you?" Draco gawked at her, wondering how it was that she knew. He asked her. "Well it's obvious, really. You don't have enough cunning, or _style_to think up something as dramatic as that on your own."

"What do you mean? I have style, and that must be the first time I've ever heard of _Snape_ being described as having any."

"Of course he has style." Hermione replied, laughing. "Didn't you ever notice his entrance into the potions classroom?"

Zachary and his wife Melanie lived in a small terraced house in Finchley; Draco looked quite dismayed to find that such an important ministry official lived in a very muggle area. They were hustled inside by Melanie, who was blonde, curvy and seemed very happy for them to be there.

"I'm so sorry to call on you so suddenly, Melanie. It's just important that I speak with Zachary sooner rather than later…"

"That's quite alright. Gobstones has been cancelled this evening; Marvin has got the flu!" Zachary was sat in the small kitchen, shovelling a pie into his mouth and watching football on the television. Melanie turned the TV off as Zachary put down his fork and came over to shake Draco's hand.

"I've heard lots about you. None of it good, but I suppose it all counts, eh?" Hermione smiled apologetically at Draco, as they took a seat at the kitchen table. Melanie made them all a cup of tea, before bustling out to "finish her cleaning".

"Why can't you be like that?" Draco whispered, causing Hermione to swat him.

The atmosphere in the kitchen became instantaneously business-like once Melanie had left the room. Zachary looked analytically at them, before rubbing his hands together.

"You have a problem and need my help. Am I right, Bossy?"

"Yes." She replied, ignoring Draco's smirk at her nickname. "Draco and I do, indeed, have a problem, and your assistance would be…beneficial." For Hermione explained their situation, with regular input from Draco. Zachary was gob smacked, and he thumped the table, causing the teacups to quiver.

"That is the most absurd thing I have ever heard! And the ministry just let them get away with it? You know, I've been telling you for ages that this country is going to the dogs, Bossy! You need to make a stand, show 'em who's boss!" Hermione grinned at him, and Draco found that he too had a smile for the man.

"So you want to help us beat them?" She asked. "You want to be involved?"

"Of course! I'll do whatever you like, dig up information on Lucius or your father, look at how the contract stands on the legal side of things, find you the best lawyer…anything."

"Well, we do need a lawyer but…I was hoping that _you_would act for us." Zachary looked taken aback.

"Me? I'm just a sod who got lucky, managed to worm his way up through the ministry. I don't know anything about a court of law."

"Don't be ridiculous! You know more than the whole Wizengamot put together! _Please_ Zachary; you're the best chance we'll get." Zachary hesitated a moment before beaming at them both.

"You're on! And I don't expect to be paid neither, well, not in galleons anyway. Maybe you can just get your paperwork done a bit faster? Speak to Arthur about all the junk…"

"Of course." Hermione replied. "And I'll be sure to get the junk mail issue sorted; I don't have the nickname 'Bossy' for nothing!"

Melanie came back into the kitchen, bringing with her a smell of flowery perfume made Hermione sneeze. Draco seemed to be looking at her longingly, and Hermione nudged him with her knee.

"I've been looking forward to meeting you!" She said perkily to Draco. "Ever since I read about you and Hermione getting married, in fact! Hermione is a dear friend of ours, and we're so pleased for her." Hermione smiled weakly. "I'm just glad that Hermione will have the chance to experience what we have, aren't you Zachary?"

Melanie's husband looked at Hermione for advice, and Hermione nodded covertly – she didn't want anyone else to know about their secret, particularly as Melanie was known for being a blabbermouth.

"Oh…uh…yes, Mel. I mean, I'm lucky aren't I? I have a beautiful bird, nice home, good job, an excellent broomstick…man can't ask for anything else, can he?" Draco was nodding enthusiastically.

"Do you bake?" He asked Melanie.

"Does she bake? I tell you, she's the best! I've never tasted cakes as spectacular as hers, honestly son!"

"Maybe you could give Hermione some recipes…" Draco suggested, earning another nudge from Hermione.

"I'd love too! I have an excellent one for apple pie, if you like! Oh, and rhubarb tart would be lovely for you I think! Goes really well with a cool drink of lemonade!"

"What's your secret of success?" Hermione asked quickly, trying to stop her ramblings about recipes. "Why has your marriage lasted for so long?"

"Well…" Melanie started thoughtfully. "I think it's getting everything balanced, really. I do all of the housework and cooking whilst Zachary goes out to work, so we both do our fair share! I'm not suggesting that you do the same, oh no, Zachary would _kill_me if you left his team, but perhaps you should always strive to keep things equal! It's worked for us."

"And you?" Draco asked Zachary. "What do _you_think?"

"Knowing when to keep your gob shut." Zachary said cheekily, causing Draco to laugh and the women to huff in indignation.

Both Hermione and Draco collapsed onto the sofa when they returned to the flat, exhausted from their hectic day. Hermione grabbed the television remote whilst Draco used _accio_to summon a bottle of wine and two glasses. It didn't take long before Hermione was asleep, her head resting on Draco's chest and his arm slung around her. Draco watched her sleeping soundly, amazed that she could actually be so relaxed around him to fall asleep in that way. He tried to close his eyes and sleep, but as too aware of the fact that she was with him – he wanted to know what she was thinking. It would have been easy for him to find out, having been trained in Legllimency and Occlumency by Snape, he knew that her defences were low whilst sleeping; she wouldn't even know that he had been in her mind. It was only a sudden rush of tenderness that stopped him, an impulsive feeling that he didn't want to force his way into her privacy. If she wanted him to know what she was thinking, she would have told him; he would not use her precious mind to force her to do something she didn't want to.

It took barely a second for Draco to piece it all together; a flash of insight that hit him as he thought. _He would not use her precious mind to force her to do something she didn't want to do_. It all suddenly made sense, as though someone had painted it in six-foot letters on the wall – Occlumency was the answer to their problems. His heart pounded as he began to gently shake her, wanting to wake her up to share in his excitement. Her eyes flickered open and she frowned at him.

"Sorry…I…" She yawned. "I didn't realise I had fallen asleep." Draco grinned at her.

"It doesn't matter! I'm glad you did, because I know what we have to do!" Hermione stared at him blearily, rubbing her eyes and licking her lips.

"Do? I don't know what you mean."

"To fight the curse! To get rid of the pain! It's so easy, Hermione, it's _Occlumency_!" Hermione smiled at his eagerness; it struck her sometimes how very much like a child Draco was.

"So you're suggesting that we can use Occlumency to block the pain from affecting our minds…"

"That's exactly what I'm saying. It makes sense, more sense than Imperius did." He watched as she ran an anxious hand through her hair, looking dubious at his idea.

"I just don't see how that could help. Occlumency deals with memories, thoughts…I've read about it."

"You may have done. But you must have skipped the passage on human biology, because the mind controls the whole body! You said that the pain is imbedded into our minds, so why not use Occlumency to expel it?" Hermione hesitated, and Draco gave a sigh. "It's the only idea we've had, so why not just attempt it?"

"Fine." Hermione replied. "I can't see there being any harm in it."

Hermione was adamant that, as they were going to attempt Occlumency, not a moment should be wasted. So Draco found himself making an appointment with Professor Snape for the following evening. Hermione had wanted him to make it for the morning, and was a little disgruntled when he reminded her that she had work and Professor Snape had classes to teach. Draco wasn't certain why, but he could feel it this time; he knew that it was going to work. And soon, they would be free of the curse.


	13. Thirteen

They went to Hogwarts in the evening after Hermione had finished, and Draco was a little apprehensive. Snape could be blunt at the best of times, but how would he treat Hermione? Would he batter her mind, attack it as though he were fighting an enemy? Or would he be gentle? Draco wanted him to be gentle. Snape greeted them in the hallway with a sour expression; he greeted Draco with a handshake and Hermione with a brusque nod.

"Your presence in my office will only serve as a distraction, Draco." He said, "So I must ask you to find occupation elsewhere. Mrs Malfoy, follow me."

As Hermione and Snape descended the stairs to the dungeons, Draco wandered out into the grounds. It had snowed during the night, and so Hogwarts was coated by a thick white blanket. The scene of a snowy Hogwarts reminded Draco of wintertime at school, and he grinned to himself whilst meandering towards the Forbidden Forest. During fourth year, when almost everyone stayed at school for Christmas, he and Pansy left the Yule Ball in pursuit of privacy, and found themselves in the Forbidden Forest. It had been quite romantic, with the moonlight and the snow, until Pansy heard the cracking of branches and wanted to return to the castle. Transfiguring a tree stump into a bench, Draco sat down and folded his cloak around him. Being at Hogwarts, and having nothing to occupy himself with, he found his thoughts wandering towards Hermione and their strange story. In a whirlwind three months, they had come to a strange agreement, a friendship of sorts that Draco had begun to be dependant on. She had become the only person that he talked to on a regular basis, the only female he ever came into _that_kind of contact with and their relationship, it seemed, was the only constant thing in his future – until they got a divorce, of course.

Divorce. That idea had begun to petrify him recently. Once he and Hermione were no longer married he would have to move out of her house, and he doubted that his parents would want to take him in, especially if they had to give him a large sum of money. What would he do with no place to live? Who could he stay with? He had no friends, no family who would be willing to help, and he could hardly stay with Professor Snape at Hogwarts. Hermione's flat wouldn't be the main thing he missed, however. It would be Hermione herself – the past week without her company had taught him that. Even though she had a foul temper, was too busy for her own good and had an addiction to books, he found that he fancied her. Draco cringed as the thought wrestled to the forefront of his mind, for he had been trying desperately to hide it. When he looked at her, he could still see the eager little bookworm that had irritated him at school, her hair was still ridiculous and even now he hated her friends, but the tenacity and stubbornness that she had developed was strangely enticing. And besides all that, a woman who hated his father just as much as Draco did could never be a bad thing. The thought of actually fancying her gave him an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach, as though he had eaten something that didn't quite agree with him.

Hermione's Occlumency practice lasted for only an hour, before she was too tired to fight him anymore, and Snape was becoming increasingly disgruntled. She walked back upstairs and out into the grounds, spotting Draco almost instantly. She stumbled towards him, her movement hindered by the snow and her wobbly legs. Draco stood up when she approached and smiled softly, holding out a hand to help her.

"I remember my first Occlumency lesson. Aunt Bella was…well I'm sure Snape was much kinder." Hermione smiled, feeling the warmth as he rubbed her hands between his own.

"The lesson wasn't that bad, actually. He thinks it will only take a couple of weeks before I can do it properly, which means that we don't have to tolerate the pain for much longer! Then we can get on with the court case; we'll be divorced in no time, I'm certain." Draco tried to force a smile, but found that no amount of determination would allow him to. He shuddered.

"Let's walk a little bit; it'll help warm us up."

Keeping hold of her hand, they decided to make a circuit of the lake. It was frozen on the top, and a few silly students were skating on the ice. Hermione watched as a Hufflepuff girl performed some spectacular tricks, shooting looks at Draco the whole time to see if he was watching.

"Honestly, she's pathetic; preening and prancing just to impress you."

"I never thought you would be the jealous type, Hermione. When did you suddenly become so possessive?"

"I'm not jealous!" The tension between them was palpable, and it increased when the skater began skating alongside them. Draco's recent thoughts were so fresh in his mind, and he really just wanted to be alone with Hermione. The Hufflepuff girl didn't take the hint from his bitter scowl, however.

"You're Draco Malfoy, aren't you?" She simpered, skating backwards with a smug smile on her face.

"Yes, and this is my wife Hermione." The Hufflepuff girl stumbled a little, focussing her eyes on Hermione and sighing.

"I heard that you'd got married. My cousin Ernie Macmillan went to school with you, he said that you used to hate each other."

"Yes," Hermione interjected. "We _used_to. That was years ago, things are different now."

"Yes, I saw in the newspaper." The girl replied, smirking. "Anyway, my name's Imelda Macmillan and I'm a fourth year…if you ever need to find me." She skated away, leaving Hermione and Draco exchanging bemused looks.

They wandered away from the lake and began the downhill walk to Hogsmeade. It started snowing and the winds were bitter, so Hermione wrapped her scarf tighter around her face.

"You'll have to keep little Imelda in mind for when we get divorced." Hermione said sweetly. "You could meet up on Hogsmeade weekends!" Draco shot her a scornful look, which sent her chuckling.

"I don't think my father would appreciate it, somehow." They lapsed into a friendly silence for a moment. "Speaking of my father, I received a letter from him on Wednesday."

"Oh? I had wondered who that was from. What did he say?"

"He wanted to invite us to Malfoy Manor for Christmas and New Year. I accepted." Hermione's head whipped round, and she blinked at him in disbelief.

"You _accepted_? Why on earth would you do that?"

"It's Christmas, Hermione. I've visited my parents during Christmastime every year, and I am not going to end that tradition now! I know that things have changed, and that you don't get along with them, but it will only be for a few days. You don't even have to see them, well, only at mealtimes…"

"I wouldn't prevent you from seeing your parents." Hermione replied quietly. "Do you think my parents will be there?"

"He didn't mention them, but it wouldn't surprise me if they were; they seemed attached at the hip." Hermione laughed.

"Yes they do, don't they? How long are we staying?"

"We go on Christmas Eve and return on New Year's Day…"

"It should be an eventful holiday, then."

"Yes, quite."

In the weeks leading up to Christmas, Hermione had an Occlumency lesson three times a week. For the majority of the time, she went to Hogwarts for the lesson, but occasionally Professor Snape came to the flat. Draco would never stay in the flat if he did, and he no longer accompanied her to Hogwarts – Hermione was glad of it. During their lessons, she began to find that more and more of her memories involved Draco. Snape refrained from commenting on this, but she knew that he was aware of it. A particularly embarrassing moment happened towards the end of their lessons, just a fortnight before Christmas, when a particularly explicit memory of her and Draco together was seen by Professor Snape. She detected a hint of colour in his cheeks, but was forthrightly dismissed from the classroom. They only had one lesson that week.

Her final class in Occlumency was the day before Christmas Eve, and this time Draco did escort her; he waited in the office too, tinkering with Snape's things and causing the Professor to glare at him.

"This is the last lesson, yes?" Draco drawled, inspecting something in a jar.

"Yes; your wife is now _quite_the Occlumens. Although, I expect that is due to her insatiable need to learn about everything." This was supposed to be a jibe at her, but both Draco and Hermione exchanged grins.

"It is a good job she does, really, as it is imperative that she learn Occlumency. I trust she's explained how this will help, Severus?"

"Mrs Malfoy always deems it suitable to explain everything. Now, perhaps we can get on with our lesson?" Draco nodded, before leaving the room to allow Snape to invade Hermione's mind for one last time.

Both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day passed without any trouble at the Malfoy Manor. Hermione kept her mouth closed at the dinner table, as to prevent any confrontation, and avoided company for the rest of the stay. Draco had to hunt for her on Christmas morning, for he woke up and found that she was not in the bed. He located her in the library, sitting cross-legged on the floor in her pyjamas, thumbing through a book about wizarding history. On Boxing Day he was unable to find her at all, and he only became aware of her whereabouts when she slipped into bed during the night.

"Where have you been?" He whispered to her, somewhat angrily.

"I went to The Burrow, to give gifts to the others. By lunch time I was already dying to return, they really are terribly noisy, but Molly Weasley is preferable to my overbearing mother." He snorted and turned away from her, taking hold of her hand as he did.

New Year's Eve arrived, and Hermione was excited with the anticipation of preparing to go home. She couldn't wait to be back in her own flat, away from Lucius and Narcissa, her mother and father. Wilhelmina cornered her daughter whilst she was packing their clothes away merrily.

"Oh darling, it's so good to see you happy!" Hermione winced slightly, and continued with her packing. "You can't ignore me forever. I know that you are content in your marriage, so you needn't deny it!" Hermione folded a robe testily. "_Hermione_…"

"No!" She whipped around and glared at her mother fiercely, scrunching the robe in her balled fists. "You cannot come to me and pretend that everything is okay! I will _never_forgive you for what you have done to me, and nothing that you can say will make me change my mind!"

"Hermione, I am doing this for – "

"_My own good_?" Hermione spat sarcastically. "The only people who benefit from this are you, father and the Malfoys. You never thought for one second about me, and I shall never forget it."

"Hermione…you don't mean it."

"I do. Now leave."

That evening should have been an elaborate dinner, with all of the house guests present to toast the New Year. Hermione, however, refused to come down, and so she stayed upstairs in the bedroom. She would not have realised that it was midnight, were it not for the fireworks outside in the garden. As she knelt at the window and watched, there came a knock on the door. Draco walked in, wearing his dress robes and looking more than tipsy.

"Happy New Year!" He cried, flopping onto the bed.

"I take it you've had an enjoyable evening?"

"Not really. Father was positively awful, sneering at me across the table. Professor Snape was there, though, he was quite disappointed that you weren't at the table."

"I couldn't. Not after that conversation with my mother. You must understand…"

"I do. Don't worry about it; he'll still be here in the morning." Hermione stood up and walked over to the bed.

"Would it have been too much trouble to take off your shoes? There will be mud on the bedding." As she climbed up next to him, the familiar feeling of pain tore through them. "That was it. That was the pain." Draco swallowed and stood up, looking at Hermione nervously.

"Do you think you can do it?" He asked. "I know I can, but…"

"Yes. Yes, I think so…" Draco held his hand out and she took it, squeezing it hard. She took a deep breath before exhaling, remembering what Snape said and trying hard to keep her mind clear. She had to focus on the pain and locate its origin in her mind, before sectioning it off and hiding it as she would a memory. Then, if all went correctly, the pain would go. Hermione's grip tightened as she concentrated on what she was supposed to be doing, until one wave of pain died and another did not take its place.

Hermione hesitated before looking at Draco, who had his eyes closed and his brow furrowed. She let go of his hand, waiting anxiously for another crippling surge of agony.

"We did it…" Draco mumbled. "It's gone…"

Hermione nodded as they looked at one another, before rushing forwards and throwing her arms around his neck. Her lips came crashing down on his, and she wondered briefly how he would respond. She needn't have worried for he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring her mouth and his hands tangling in her hair. She could have got lost in his kiss forever, but a loud cry from downstairs broke the silence. Draco pulled away looking dazed and Hermione couldn't determine whether his expression was caused by the kiss or the cry.

"What was that?" She asked. Another howl rang out around the house; Draco thought it sounded like his father.

"Our parents…the noises are coming from our parents."

They ran down the stairs, and saw almost instantly the source of the cry. Lucius was led on the floor of the hallway in the foetal position, gripping his finger, with a pale white face. Hermione left Draco tending to his father, and ran outside to see her mother, father and Narcissa in various stages of agony. Her mother was leant against the wall with her eyes shut, Narcissa was sat on the floor mumbling and Felix was staring stoically at the wall, flinching from time to time.

"Hermione!" She ran back inside to find Lucius gripping onto his son's robes.

"What have you done to us? What is this curse you have used?" Hermione gasped as she noticed his finger – a red brand that looked like a ring.

"We…oh Draco…the curse that we forced out has been reflected back on our parents!" Draco gaped at her, before his face broke into an ecstatic grin.

"It serves them right! A just punishment I think, knowing how much agony they have caused us." They stood grinning at one another, revelling in their success.

"Make it stop." Lucius groaned, interrupting the moment, and he grasped Draco's trouser leg.

"We can't, father." He replied, smirking. "You know the only way to get rid of this pain, don't you? I suggest you and mother go upstairs immediately, for it will only get worse the longer you resist." Lucius sneered up at them.

"You will regret this! I will make you suffer pain ten times worse, and then you will not be making jokes at my expense!" Hermione was not ruffled by this threat, for she knew that he couldn't really do anything more to them. She took hold of Draco's hand and looked down at Lucius.

"Happy New Year!" She retorted chirpily.

Hermione didn't really think about what she had done until the following morning, when she was consumed with embarrassment. Draco was not in the bed when she woke up, which only made her mortification worse. They had kissed – she had flung herself at him! Hermione didn't hang around for him, but merely pulled on her clothes and fled the manor, heading for The Burrow. Ginny and Harry were spending the holidays there, and she desperately needed to speak to her redheaded friend. The door was unlocked when she arrived and, even though it was only early, Ginny was awake. She started when spotting Hermione stood in the doorway, and fled over to give her a welcoming hug.

"What are you doing here? I received your gift by the way, and I've already read about five chapters too! It's a good job I did, really, because I didn't know that…" She stopped when seeing the look of misery on Hermione's face. "What's wrong?" Hermione sat down on the worn leather sofa and sighed, covering her eyes with her hand.

"I've done something terribly stupid, Ginny." The redhead sat down by her and smiled at her sympathetically.

"What can be so bad that you're here, at 7 in the morning, on New Year's Day?"

"I kissed him." She said simply, looking slightly queasy. "I kissed him of my own free will." Ginny clapped her hands together and let out an excited squeal.

"And you've finally chosen to admit your feelings for him, haven't you? I _told_you, but you wouldn't believe me! It's wonderful Hermione; certainly not something you should regret."

"Of course I regret it. I'm supposedly a sensible woman, and there is nothing sensible about having feelings for Draco Malfoy! He's rude, lazy and arrogant; not to mention he has all sorts of history with Pansy that no one will really tell me about." Hermione let out an exhausted sigh. "I'm just hoping this will all go away; it's not like I _love_him or anything. We managed to fight the curse last night, and so there isn't really a need for him to live in the flat anymore; plus, with any luck, it won't take much longer for a divorce to be settled. Then he'll be out of my hair, and I won't have to worry about it."

"That won't happen and you know it. Anyway, speaking of the divorce, I've dug out some information for you. Well, rather, Ron did without knowing what it was for. Hector Beaufort worked in the department of Marriage, Birth and Death, so he dealt with certificates and that kind of thing; he was also licensed to perform handfasting ceremonies, which means it definitely is valid. He retired the day after you were married."

"So we can't claim that the marriage is dodgy?" Ginny smirked mischievously, in a way that reminded Hermione of Fred and George.

"Actually, we can. Bill is good friends with one of the goblins that work at Gringotts, he's called Lockwood, and I've met him a few times. When I was withdrawing some money from the bank, I spoke to Lockwood and invited him for some tea, we were chatting and I just happened to mention Hector Beaufort. Lockwood has always been good for gossip, and he had no qualms about giving me details of his bank account! Apparently just a fortnight before your marriage, a huge amount of galleons were transferred from another account into Hector's. Can you guess whose account it came from?" Hermione's face formed a grimace.

"Lucius Malfoy's."

"Yes! Harry and I have, from that information, deduced that Lucius gave money to bribe Hector into performing the ceremony. As he writes the certificates he had to know the full details of the marriage, so Hector Beaufort knows about the matching scars you and Draco received; hence the need for such a large amount of money. I'm sure he'll be wishing that he asked for more at the moment."

"Why?" Hermione demanded. "Why should he want more?"

"He's spent it all hasn't he? Owns a fancy house in the south of France, bought more Firewhiskey than most people drink in a lifetime and has a bit of a penchant for gambling. He needs more cash. " Hermione was shaking her head, joining the dots quickly.

"Draco and I have been in all of the newspapers; we're on front covers almost every day. Hector's threatening to tell all, and is blackmailing Lucius!" To Hermione's surprise, Ginny did not look at all vexed by this news.

"You needn't be so worried about it, Hermione. After all, bribery and blackmail are just some of the crimes involved in this whole debacle. If this doesn't get you that divorce, I don't know what will."


	14. Fourteen

_**Warning: Abortion is discussed in this chapter! If this topic offends/distresses you in any way, please do not read.**_

_**

* * *

**_

Hermione's inhibitions about the previous night were thrown out of the window as she rushed back to the flat. She could hear the shower running, and banged on the door to get Draco's attention.

"What the bloody hell do you want?" He asked, appearing from the bathroom wearing only a towel. "If you hadn't noticed, I was just in the shower."

"But it's important!" She hurriedly explained what Ginny had found and grinned at him, waiting for a positive reaction.

"That's great…" He mumbled, straining a smile. Hermione wondered why he wasn't as pleased as he should have been, but didn't push the subject. "An owl came for you, and I took the liberty of reading it; it's from Zachary."

"What did he say?" She asked, shrugging off her coat.

"He wanted to speak about the court case, asked us if we wanted to stop over for lunch."

"Excellent. I'll just send a note telling him to expect us."

Melanie had produced a great lunch for them; a plateful of cucumber sandwiches, pork pies, sausage rolls and a large selection of homemade cakes. Draco was hardly listening to Zachary speak as he piled his plate high, until Hermione directed an elbow into his rib. She had told Zachary everything that Ginny had found, and her boss was practically quivering with happiness.

"Fantastic! Your friend can have a job with us if she likes, after she's popped."

"Unfortunately her heart belongs to Quidditch." Hermione replied, smiling. "She plays for the Holyhead Harpies." Zachary viciously bit into a sandwich and sighed.

"Figures; the best ones always have other things to do. Except you, of course." Hermione inclined her head as a coy means of saying thank you,

"So do you have a date for our trial yet?" Draco asked perkily.

"I do, as a matter of fact: 3rd February, 9:30am. It'll be in front of the whole Wizengamot, as you're making some pretty serious accusations." Hermione looked a little bit queasy, and she was wringing her hands anxiously.

"They're really harsh, aren't they? Harry told me how it was at his court case; they're biased and unjust…"

"They _were_. You have to remember that the ministry was under Fudge and Umbridge at the time. The Chief Warlock is Colin Creevey; he's as fair as they come." Hermione, and everyone else who remembered Colin, was surprised when he became the Chief Warlock. He had paved his way through the ministry after leaving school and was fully deserving of the position. However, he was still a shameless fan of Harry.

"Do you have any tips for how we should act? In the courtroom, I mean?" Draco asked.

"Well…stick to your story, keep on the right track. Don't say one thing and then contradict yourself, otherwise they won't believe a thing you say! That's all there is to it really…oh, and don't be threatened by your father." Draco seemed to pale at the mention of Lucius, but he didn't linger on the thought as Melanie returned and invited them into the sitting room.

After a couple of hours of jokes, anecdotes and copious amounts of tea and cake, Draco and Hermione left the house. As they said goodbye on the porch, Hermione gave Zachary a warm hug.

"I know that wasn't exactly appropriate, but I just want to say thank you. You've been a great help."

"It's nothing." Zachary replied somewhat sheepishly. "You're a friend."

"Do you think we'll have a good chance of winning? Will the Wizengamot be sympathetic?"

"I bloody well think so! With the evidence you've got, they'd be stupid not to be! It wouldn't surprise me if you got, at least, 1 million galleons."

"But that's 5 million pounds!" Hermione gasped.

"Yes, and you deserve it for what that git has put you through. You head home safely now, alright? I'll see you at work next week; bright and early as usual, please!" Draco and Hermione headed off down the street; it was dark outside now and the street lamps cast an orange hue across the road.

"We should go out and celebrate!" Draco announced, kicking a stray stone. "Let's go and have a few drinks."

"I don't think that's such a good idea." Hermione confessed. "I wanted to do some tidying, and…"

"Don't be ridiculous! We're going to get a million galleons between us, and we'll be divorced! If that isn't something to celebrate, I don't know what is." Hermione couldn't help but crack a grin.

"Oh alright then, I suppose one or two couldn't hurt." Draco looked crestfallen.

"Only one or two? I was thinking more six or seven…"

Draco's estimate was closer than Hermione's. After three glasses of white wine, one of red, two Cheeky Vimtos and a Sex on the Beach; Hermione was feeling rather sick. She absentmindedly swirled a cherry around the empty glass, as Draco ordered yet another pint.

"I think we've had enough after this…" Hermione shouted over the thumping bass. "We should go home."

"Hermione! Live a little!" Draco's words were decidedly slurred, and Hermione began to titter. She wasn't certain why it amused her.

"You have to move out of the flat." She said, leaning towards him to whisper in his ear. "Tomorrow. Pack your things and go somewhere else, I don't want you in my flat."

"Why?" He asked, looking at her with a raised eyebrow. "I thought we were getting on well." She leaned closer and smiled, batting her eyelashes.

"We're getting on _too_well I think." Suddenly, she slipped from her stool. Draco reached a hand down and tried to pull her up, but she remained sprawled on the floor.

"I think you were right about having too much to drink. Come on, we'll go home."

Neither of them was able to apparate, and so they caught a taxi back to Hermione's flat. They stumbled into the house laughing loudly and Hermione fell onto the sofa with an "Oomph!" Draco hovered in the middle of the room, swaying slightly, and Hermione noticed he looked a little peaky.

"I'm going to be sick." He dashed into the bathroom, as Hermione watched with a little giggle. Moments later, she padded in after him and found his arms cradling the toilet bowl.

"Have you finished?" She asked tenderly. "I'll get you into bed."

"Yes please!" He roared happily. "But only if you come with me!" Hermione recoiled with a wrinkled nose.

"No. You stink. I'll sleep on the sofa."

She helped him into the bedroom and he fell onto the bed, instantly drifting off into a snooze. Hermione wondered how she was managing to do this, she was so drunk herself! She quietly made a vow never to touch alcohol again, before unbuttoning Draco's shirt. Once she had tugged it off, he opened his eyes and grinned seductively.

"Are you taking advantage of me?" His voice was a superior drawl; it used to rile her when she was younger, but she now knew that he put it on.

"No, I'm undressing you because the shirt is full of sick." Hermione stood up and made to walk away, but Draco grabbed her wrist.

"_I knew you would do me good in some way, at some time: I saw it in your eyes when I first beheld you; their expression and smile did not strike delight to my inmost heart so for nothing._Mr Darcy said that you know." Hermione pulled her wrist away, trying to forget the intensity in his eyes.

"He didn't. It was Mr Rochester. Sleep well Draco." He muttered something as she walked out of the room.

"Stupid wench. Should've known that wouldn't get her into bed with me…"

Hermione closed the door behind her and stood with her back pressed against it, her eyes closed. She had a thumping headache, and it wasn't helped with what Draco had just said to her. As he was drunk she suspected it was only a jest, but the sincerity when he said it was making her uncomfortable. Could he possibly share her feelings? She doubted it, but the worry was now raised in her mind. Hermione would have liked to settle down on the sofa, but when she opened her eyes she saw someone who should not have been there. Her worry and drunkenness was replaced by a quick, and sober, fury.

"Narcissa? What the bloody hell are you doing?" The blonde looked at her apprehensively, and Hermione felt the desire to manhandle her out of the door.

"I'm here to pay you an urgent visit Hermione, regarding…"

"If it's about last night, you won't get any sympathy from me." Hermione sneered. "That is what I've had to go through since September, so you have no right to complain." Narcissa looked haughty, but it didn't intimidate Hermione

"It isn't about that, dear, although it was a nasty trick. I am here out of concern for you and Draco. It was clear during your stay with us that you and Draco have grown…closer. I fear that he hasn't been frank with you, and so I must do it for him."

"What do you mean? You can't just come to my flat in the middle of the night and talk in riddles…"

"I am referring to Draco's relationship with Pansy Crabbe. Please, come and sit down."

Hermione walked over to the sofa and sat stiffly next to Draco's mother. As much as she hated it, she was curious about Draco and Pansy, and Narcissa seemed willing to tell her the truth.

"What is it? I know they were engaged and that it ended, but neither of them has told me why."

"That's because it hurt my boy terribly! Pansy was wrong, Lucius was wrong…Draco was heartbroken and I was powerless!"

"Just get on with it, Narcissa."

"I apologise, this is an emotional subject. Draco and Pansy became engaged almost as soon as they left school, they would have got married then too if it was up to Pansy. She was besotted with him, but he Draco was a bit of a bad boy; he preferred drinking and flirting to spending time with Pansy. He especially didn't want to settle down and start a family." Hermione let out a small gasp, as she suddenly realised what had happened. Lucius' jibe suddenly made sense.

"She became pregnant, didn't she?" Narcissa nodded grimly.

"She announced it one evening when at our house for dinner. Draco was thrilled, ecstatic at the idea of being a dad. He promised her that he'd change, gave up drinking and smoking; he was really determined to do good by Pansy and his child. The wedding was brought forward, to avoid any shame for them, and everything looked set to be perfect."

"What happened? Why wasn't everything perfect?" Hermione asked, fascinated with Narcissa's tale.

"Pansy didn't want the child. She was just entering into a modelling contract with Witch Weekly, and they wouldn't have her if she was pregnant. Pansy went behind Draco's back and spoke to Lucius, who arranged for her to abort the baby in Switzerland." Narcissa began to cry gently, and dabbed her eyes with a monogrammed handkerchief. "When Draco found out he was devastated, but he didn't want to lose Pansy. The engagement remained intact, until a week before the wedding. He couldn't bear it, and called it off."

"I'm so sorry to hear that. It's sad that he couldn't be with Pansy, especially if he loved her that much."

"It was sad indeed. That's partly the reason why we forced you together, to try and encourage him to see someone new. It's been two years."

"Perhaps he doesn't want someone new. Maybe he still loves Pansy." Narcissa looked at her seriously, a wry smile playing about her lips.

"I see that you are both still in denial. He will never forget the child he so desperately wanted, but he has already moved on from Pansy. I will leave now; you are obviously tired, and it would be rude of me to keep you. Good night." Narcissa disapparated.

In the silence of the sitting room, Hermione buried her face in her hands. If she had been confused before, it was nothing to what she felt now. Draco had, obviously, been maddeningly in love with Pansy, he had nearly been a father – it had nearly been perfect. Her heart was divided. She felt sorry for Draco, sorry for the happiness that he had lost, but was also shocked to find that she was relieved. If Pansy had never gone behind his back, they would never have been married. Blaming these crazy thoughts on the drink, she had a large drink of water and settled her head down.

Everything would become clearer in the morning.

* * *

_The lines that Draco quoted are not, as Hermione corrected him, from Mr Darcy of Pride and Prejudice. They were in fact from Mr Rochester, who is one of the main protagonists in Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte. _


	15. Fifteen

Hermione was inadvertently cruel the next morning. She had woke without a hangover (a trait that she had been blessed with) and so made a large English breakfast for Draco. However, when she presented it to him he knocked it to the floor en route to the bathroom. He was obviously not as lucky as her when it came to hangovers. When he appeared from the bathroom again, having vomited and then showered, Draco looked at Hermione anxiously.

"Good morning!" She trilled, offering him a glass of water. He took it from her gingerly, taking a drink. "You're welcome."

"Sorry, thank you." He groaned and sat down at the small kitchen table. "How much did I have to drink last night?"

"Enough. It was quite impressive, according to the bartender."

"Please don't tease me. I'm too ill to be trifled with; I need to be taken care of."

"And I tried, but you knocked your breakfast on the floor." He gave her a sour look, before taking another gulp of the water.

Draco was left alone to feel sorry for himself as Hermione got ready. When she returned, she sat by him with a tender smile on her face. She had decided that it would be best to coax Draco into telling her about Pansy, so that she wouldn't feel as though she was lying to him.

"We've become good friends you and I…" She said, in what she hoped was a pleasant tone. He looked at her suspiciously.

"Did I do something terrible last night? Offend you? Did we argue again?"

"No! I was just making a comment…making conversation. Don't you think we've become good friends?"

"I suppose we have. Why do you ask?"

"I was just wondering. I'm glad we're good friends. We can have fun together, _tell one another things_." He narrowed his eyes at her, and her heart began to thump. "If we're such good friends, why do you want me to move out?" Hermione ran her fingers through her hair. Surliness was not conducive to a heartfelt confession of past hurts, so it looked like Draco would not be spilling his heart to her any time soon.

"I just think it's a good idea. We no longer need to be close to one another, now that we can fight off the curse, and I think it would just send off the wrong message. If we live apart, the Wizengamot could never suggest that...suggest that we really were a couple." Draco leant towards her, raising an eyebrow.

"Why? Should they have reason to suspect that we really are a couple?"

"No." Hermione replied quickly. His behaviour was so confusing; aloofness one moment and flirtatious comments the next – she was always on her guard around him. "Not at all. But you don't know how these people think, do you?" Draco didn't look as though he believed her, and Hermione sighed. "I'm going to go for a bit of a walk later; do you want to come with me?" He shrugged.

"I have nothing else to do, so why not?"

"The fresh air will help your hangover too."

There was an ulterior motive to this walk in the park. Hermione was going to spill her guts about everything: her relationship with her parents, Ron and Harry, and how their whole marriage had affected them. If her plan came to fruition, Draco would feel obliged to do the same in return. The ground was covered in snow, but the day was bright and pleasant; the park they visited was beautiful in these conditions.

"I used to come here with my parents." Hermione confessed. "We would feed the ducks." Draco smirked.

"How quaint. I used to go shopping with my mother, but father was always far too busy. Not that I minded of course, he isn't the easiest man to get along with." Hermione laughed.

"I was certainly a daddy's girl – he was my hero. When I was really little he used to tell me what, I thought, were fairytales; turns out they were real stories of the goblin rebellion and the war against Grindelwald. Then when I was a bit older, we would go cycling together; finally, when I went to Hogwarts we would write three times a week."

"I didn't realise you were so close, you don't show it."

"That's because we aren't anymore. Our relationship had been dwindling since the war against Voldemort, and then when he forced that contract on me…I can't ever forgive him." Draco nodded empathetically. Hermione realised that Draco probably decided his father was beyond forgiveness years ago.

"Why do you find it so hard to forgive him? If you love him so much? I don't strike your relationship as being like that of mine and my father's. You at least have a happy foundation to build on, I didn't have that. "

"Because of everything he has put me through! He broke my trust, whereas you have always disliked your father. You can't know how much things have hurt me; I think I've done a good job of hiding how I really feel, how I've been so terribly affected by all of this."

"What do you mean? Your life hasn't changed that much…"

"Hasn't it? I've become almost isolated from my friends, Ron won't even speak to me, I don't get along with my parents anymore, all of my spare time is spent looking at books and thinking about how to get my life back! How can you say that it hasn't changed?"

"I'm sorry."

Hermione was suddenly struck by how passionately she had said all of that, and it occurred to her that everything she said was true. She really _had _been changed by everything that had happened.

"It isn't your fault. You've been affected too."

They walked in silence for a while, Hermione deep in her own contemplations. Thoughts that she had pushed to the back of her mind were suddenly battling for her attention. She missed her parents, she missed Ron, and she missed being alone in the flat. Yet, if she was honest, she would pine for Draco just as sorely once he was no longer her husband. That very fact scared her slightly, but she was distracted when he slipped his gloved-hand into hers.

"The trial is just over a month away."

"I know. It will be strange when you're no longer around." She wondered when her tongue had started to ignore instructions from her brain; she hadn't wanted him to know that. It was hardly a surprise that he never acted consistently; Hermione herself was always blowing hot and cold. Draco didn't seem to notice this accidentally tender reply, because he had stopped still. Hermione turned to follow his gaze; he was staring at a bush. "What's the matter?"

"Someone just apparated into that bush! I saw them!"

"You think someone's followed us?" Hermione asked, panicked. It was something she hadn't felt for a long time: sheer and utter terror.

"Yes!" Draco charged over to the bush and poked his wand into it. "Whoever you are, come out now! We have seen you!" Hermione let out a little giggle as Harry pushed his way past Draco and climbed out of the bush; his glasses were lopsided and there was a leaf in his hair. Draco gaped at him, obviously not expecting the saviour of the wizarding world to be hiding in bushes.

"I fell over when I apparated in! Wasn't concentrating properly. Sorry I scared you."

"How did you know we were here?" Draco demanded, to which Harry looked a little nervous.

"Shouldn't have done it really, used the spell we have in the department for tracking criminals." Hermione clucked her tongue. "But it was important! Ginny sent me – she's gone into labour!" Hermione squealed and clapped her hands together.

"She's three weeks early!"

"Yeah, I know! A bit of a shock, I can tell you! I was making some lunch, a really nice pasta sauce with mushrooms and courgettes and…" Draco cleared his throat. "Anyway, she's screaming for you; I'm to take you to St Mungo's." Hermione nodded excitedly, and turned to Draco.

"Do you mind if I go? You can come with me if you like…"

"No thank you! I have no wish to see Ginny Potter in labour. I'll go back to the flat, see if I can conjure us something for dinner."

"Yes. I imagine it's pretty easy to conjure something now that you know how to telephone the takeaway! I'll be back as soon as I can, alright?" She pecked him lightly on the cheek. "Thank you for listening…" Harry took hold of Hermione's hand and disapparated.

Ginny was red-faced and sweaty when Hermione and Harry arrived in the delivery room. She grasped Harry and kissed him, before squeezing Hermione's hand tightly. The Healer floated around the room, smiling pleasantly.

"Have we missed anything?" Harry asked her.

"Oh no! She'll be a long while yet; your baby seems to have changed his mind."

"His?" Hermione asked. Harry smiled sheepishly.

"Yeah. We found out what it was ages ago, but Ginny wanted to keep it a secret; so it would be a surprise for everyone."

"I wish he would just hurry up!" Ginny whined, letting out a huff. The Healer ticked something on a chart, before turning to Hermione.

"Unfortunately, we only allow one other person in the delivery room. So if you would please just take a seat through that door. Help yourself to tea and coffee."

As Hermione sat in the waiting room anxiously, listening to Ginny's sporadic cries inside the room, she idly wondered if that would ever be her. It would take a strong man to gain her trust after this, and she considered herself put off marriage for life. To her, being married to someone would forever signify being bound, restricted, controlled, and she wouldn't allow anyone to have that power over her ever again. This thought, coupled with the idea that she may never be a mother, saddened her, until she remembered her job. She worked long hours and was often out of the country, how could she really be a mother if she was never there? Ginny would be the best mum (after Molly Weasley, of course) for she would have plenty of time to spend with her brood. Hermione, however, would be…she would be like her own mother. The idea sickened her to the very core, and she physically recoiled at it. _No_, Hermione thought to herself, _it's kindest if you don't have a child._ She returned to listening to Ginny's cries, and wondering when she would be introduced to her new godson.

Meanwhile, Draco paced the sitting room of the flat. He was nervous. Although he had pretended otherwise, Draco could remember everything he did last night, and everything that Hermione had said.

He had quoted Jane Eyre to her and she had said that they were 'too close'; but what did that mean? He couldn't bear the thought of leaving her, moving out of the flat and turning his back on everything they had been through. He wanted her there with him. _Now_. When he woke up that morning, he made a decision: tonight he would tell her how he felt. He had started to think she might like him too, until this morning. The '"we're good friends" speech had made him panic, and then asking him to move out…he didn't know what to think anymore. Sighing, he walked into the bedroom and changed into his pyjamas. It was almost two O'clock, so there would be no confession that evening. Just as he was about to climb into the bed, he heard the front door.

"Draco? Are you asleep?"

"I'm in here!"

The door was flung open and a very bedraggled looking Hermione stood there. She had her coat flung over one arm, bags under her eyes and an expression of utmost joy on her face.

"She's had a baby boy! A boy called James Arthur; he's lovely!" Draco smiled.

"That's great. Tell them I said congratulations."

"I already did, I hope you don't mind." Draco shook his head and sat on the edge of the bed. "What's wrong? You're not yourself…"

He tensed up for a moment, before deciding that actions would speak louder than words. He charged forward, took the coat and threw it on the floor, before taking her face between his hands and kissing her. She stood startled for a moment, before her hands found a place on his chest. Gently pushing him away, she looked up at him.

"What are you doing?" She breathed. "Because I don't want this to be another one of those moments…when we kiss and then pretend it never happened." Draco smiled boyishly, and Hermione felt a swell of amusement mingled with emotion. If anyone had said to her that the infamous Draco Malfoy would look at her that way, she would have punched them before referring them to St Mungo's.

"That all depends what you want me to do…" Hermione laughed and buried her face into his chest.

"Your lines are atrocious! Just last night you were spouting Charlotte Bronte at me…although you thought it was Jane Austen. Do you remember?" Draco shook his head, feigning ignorance.

"Not at all." Hermione leant up to kiss him again, deeply and passionately.

"I'll regret it in the morning."

"I would never regret a few kisses." He whispered. "It's hardly like we're doing anything wrong."

Hermione flashed him the same lascivious grin that she had shown to Narcissa after their 'first night' together, causing him to shudder with lust.

"I was thinking of something a little more…well, a little more than kissing." Draco kissed her fully on the mouth, before leading a trail of little kisses down her neck.

"Who says I would regret that either?"


	16. Sixteen

The room was bathed in light when Draco woke the next morning and, when he looked at Hermione's alarm clock; he saw that it was almost lunch time. Hermione was led in the bed next to him, breathing deeply and sleeping soundly. He wanted to climb out of bed, but worried that he would disturb her. After a night of bliss, he woke up feeling sickeningly regretful. It wasn't that his feelings had changed over night, but he wished that he hadn't jumped straight in at the deep-end. Especially as he had a lot of history that Hermione did not know. Quickly and quietly he got out of the bed, before checking to see if she had woken. She hadn't, and so he proceeded to get dressed and leave the house.

The grounds of the manor house were immaculately preserved, and gave the impression of a blazing summer day. Draco stood at the foot of the hill, staring up at the grand house which might have once been his. It was not with longing that he looked at it, but with a sense of determination. He was about to do something that he had put off for a very long time – he was going to confront his future. An owl suddenly flew out of the forest, a newspaper tied to its leg. He watched as it soared through the sky, before it finally found an entrance into the house. The day was beautiful, and it promised that the day would be just as pleasant. Draco had never been a huge believer in pathetic fallacy, but the thought of returning home to a repeat performance of the night before seemed to coincide perfectly with the weather. He let out a sigh, showed his hands into the pocket of his coat and strode towards the house.

It was quiet inside, and reminded Draco of a house in mourning. He knew that nobody had died, as this house had always carried an air of foreboding. Seemingly out of nowhere, a house elf greeted him in the hallway, and gazed up at him inquisitively.

"Master Crabbe is not home." It squeaked. "Mr Malfoy must come back later."

"I am not here to see Master Crabbe. I would like to see your Mistress."

"Lonky will take you to the garden, where Mistress Crabbe is eating lunch." Draco followed the house elf, wondering briefly whether it would report back to Victor later when he returned home. Pansy was sitting under a large umbrella, sipping delicately from a teacup. He was always struck by her beauty when she was silent; it was when she spoke that she became ugly and fake. "Mistress Crabbe, Mr Malfoy is here to see you." Pansy turned around and smiled broadly.

"Draco! How lovely! Should I have been expecting you?"

"No, I came of my own accord. There is something I wanted to tell you."

Draco sat down at the table with her and helped himself to a sandwich. They sat in silence for a while, as Pansy smiled proudly at her garden. Draco wondered vaguely if Hermione would be awake yet, and if she would be wondering where he was. He would make it up to her when he returned; he would take her out for a fancy lunch… Suddenly, Pansy turned to him.

"What did you want to talk to me about? You are acting queerly, sitting there in silence when you came to speak to me!" Draco put the sandwich on his plate.

"I have feelings for Hermione. Feelings which she returns." He didn't see the sense in beating about the bush; it was something he had to do. Pansy put her teacup down primly, before looking at him.

"It took you long enough. I was expecting it sooner. Why have you come to tell me that?" Despite the serene façade, Draco knew she was getting angry; the clipped sentences and the slight curling of the lip told him that.

"Because I know how you get. You would be furious if you heard it from my father, or from my mother." Pansy was smirking cruelly. She stood up and walked over to him, sitting on his knee.

"Draco, I know the real reason you came. You wish that we weren't over, don't you?" She kissed his cheek tenderly. "We couldn't be married, Victor saw to that, but I could be your mistress. We could be together without the tedium of marriage…don't you want that Draco?"

Before he could answer she kissed him. It lasted only for a second, until Draco felt a familiar pulse of pain and pushed her away. He had expected her to react this way, but not as outrageously as this. She was a possessive person by nature, and had obviously believed that Draco would one day return to her. Hermione would be furious when he got home, he knew, but there was no way for him to prevent what she had just done.

"That isn't what I want at all." He said aloud. "I had dozens of reasons not to be with you; I loathe everything about you, from the way you speak to your piercingly shrill laugh! What you did to the baby was simply…was simply what pushed me over the edge. Breaking our engagement was the best thing I ever did, I only regret the fact that I didn't do it before you got pregnant. I think that I love Hermione, and no amount of groping by you will change my mind. Now if you will excuse me, I'm leaving. Don't bother owling me."

Draco somehow managed to get his way out of the manor, struggling against the constant bursts of pain. Once on the lawn, he disapparated and landed in the sitting room. Hermione was sat on the sofa, but she stood when he clambered to his feet.

"Where have you been?" She asked; trying to keep her voice steady, but the crack of emotion coming through. "Why did you leave this morning?"

"I had somewhere to go, someone to talk to…"

"Pretty was she?" She demanded testily. "Waiting for you, with a simpering smile?"

"I went to see Pansy, to tell her that…"

"Did you kiss her?"

"Yes, but it wasn't how you think! _She_kissed _me_."

"Of course she did! Because Pansy would come on to you, when she has a husband." Hermione shook her head. "I know what happened between you. I know about the baby, and the abortion and how you were devastated and couldn't live without her!"

Draco thought for a moment that his heart had stopped. He had expected fury from her, but this was nothing but vindictive rage. She knew about Pansy, had probably known all along. No doubt she had been laughing at him, stringing him along out of sympathy for the poor man who lost everything…

"How did you find out?" Draco asked calmly, cloaking his hurt. "Who told you?"

"Your mother! Why did you keep something like that from me? I'm your wife!" Hermione began to pace, trying hard not to cry.

"A wife I had forced on me! Why should I have told you? We weren't close, we _aren't_close." He grit his teeth. "You've soon changed since last night; do I no longer deserve you now that you know? Was last night just a bit of sympathy? Was I a pity lay, then?" He barked. "Did you think 'poor bloke! I know what will cheer him up'?"

"How dare you suggest that? I thought you liked me…that we liked each other…but I was so bloody stupid! You've just been using me, like you used all of the other girls! I can't believe I've been so _stupid_! I did feel sorry for you, but that has nothing to do with the way I feel!" Their whole discourse was punctuated by bolts of agony, making it all the more painful. They were too angry to try and fight the curse.

Draco charged into the bedroom, conjured a suitcase, and began stuffing things into it. Hermione followed him and sat on the bed, now openly weeping.

"I'm leaving." He said. "I'm not staying here with you a minute longer. You're just as bad as her! I actually thought that, as sappy as this sounds, you might _care_ for me. Then again, I always have been easily influenced and tricked."

"Where will you go?" She asked. He did the zip up with an angry growl.

"Anywhere where I won't see you! I can't believe that I considered trusting you, that I actually though…bloody hell!" Hermione shook her head.

"I haven't done anything to you! _You_are the one in the wrong, _you_kissed Pansy, _and you left me to go to her after we slept together!"_Draco dragged the suitcase past her, out of the room, and she followed him angrily. He pulled open the door, and the room was instantly full of flashes and shouting.

"Mr Malfoy, is it true that your father has you both bound with a curse?"

"Hermione! Are you really looking for a divorce? And one million galleons from the Malfoys?" Draco pushed them out of the way and dragged the suitcase away.

"Draco!" She cried, tears streaming down her face. "You can't just leave!" She pulled the door behind her, when it suddenly occurred to her. _They knew?_

Hermione's Daily Prophet led, unread, on the kitchen windowsill. Sobbing, she ran across the room and grabbed it. Looking at the front page, she was gob smacked to see that the true nature of their marriage had been revealed on the front page. Hermione wasn't certain how it had been leaked, and who had done the talking, but her heart sank. Now she would never have a moment of peace, people would be pestering her, and all she wanted to do was curl up and cry. Last night everything had seemed so wonderful, she had been so happy. The baby had been born, Ginny was well and Harry was glad; she and Draco had spent an amazing night together, and things only seemed set to improve. Yet now…now she was alone, crying, with the press banging on her door and no one to turn to.

It seemed, with the divorce in only a month, that this was something she would simply have to get used to.


	17. Seventeen

A month passed, during which Hermione and Draco did not speak. They pointedly avoided one another; making excuses to visit Zachary at different times, and wouldn't even write to each other. Hermione came home from work one day to find the wardrobe open and the rest of Draco's things gone. It upset her, but she eventually decided that it was for the best – a relationship between the two of them was simply not feasible. The only thing that had kept them together was their shared problem, and with that slowly going away the cracks had begun to show; maintaining a relationship after the divorce would be nearly impossible, Hermione told herself.

Whether she believed what she said, was a very different matter.

Life without Draco in the flat was easier, and cleaner, although it was also much duller. Squabbling over silly things like the remote control or who was doing the washing up was trivial, but much more interesting than watching mind numbing chat shows alone. So for the first few weeks after he left, Hermione constantly thought of Draco; she knew it wasn't healthy, but nothing she did would distract her. However, he eventually faded from her mind and she was able to sleep in her bed again without sniffling. In fact by the time the end of January came around, Hermione was anticipating the divorce with excitement. Only then would she be able to cast the marriage off completely, continue with her life and perhaps find someone new to quarrel with.

Ginny often visited Hermione, bringing baby James of course. He had a full head of jet black hair, and every time she saw him he had changed dramatically. The new mother had changed too; she was serene and content, differing greatly from the flightiness and quick temper from before the pregnancy. A week before the trial, Ginny arrived at the flat with a bashful-looking Ron in tow. Hermione raised an eyebrow as Ron shuffled inside, leaving mother and baby in the doorway.

"I'm just going to take James for a walk around the block; I'll probably be about ten minutes. Will that be enough time, Ron?" The redhead man nodded so Ginny beamed and descended the stairs, cradling James as she did. Once the door was shut, Hermione offered Ron a cup of tea which he declined.

"I've come to apologise; properly this time." Hermione considered giving him a hard time, punishing him, but she decided that they had been estranged for far too long.

"I wish you'd come sooner. We've been friends for so long; it's been difficult getting through this without you."

"I've been trying to pluck up the courage since the newspaper article, about the curse." Hermione smiled as she began to prepare Ginny's normal cup of tea.

"Yes. A lot of people changed the way they thought about me after that. Why has it taken you so long, though?" Ron's ears flushed red, and it was only then that Hermione noticed a hefty-looking bag in his right hand.

"Because I felt guilty. Hermione…it was me who told Rita Skeeter about the curse. I heard Harry and Ginny talking about it one night, and I was _so_angry with you. I needed some money and…and Rita offered me a fortune: 10000 galleons!" Hermione turned to him, disappointment and anger on her face.

"You told the newspapers about me for money? If you'd have asked I could have leant you something, Harry would have done the same…"

"I was sick of borrowing things though, don't you understand? Ever since we started school I've been scrounging things from you both, and this was an opportunity to make some good money for myself…I shouldn't have done it." He looked at her nervously. "Are you angry at me?"

"Surprisingly…no." She gave him a small smile. "If I'd found out on the day it was published, I would have been furious. However, we've received a lot of support from people because of the article; it's been something of a help." Ron threw the bag on the table with a clunk.

"All 10000 are in there; it's yours." Hermione shook her head, and handed the bag back to Ron.

"I don't want it, I don't need it. You do, so take it."

"How do you expect me to? After what I did to get it? I won't keep it. Put it towards your divorce proceedings."

"Why don't we split it in half? 5000 each. That will buy you a nice flat on Diagon Alley, and I can use it to fund the case. Please accept it, Ron." Ron nodded awkwardly.

"I suppose that's alright...thank you." Hermione moved over to him and hugged him warmly.

"Besides, you look as though you need a bit of peace and quiet. Moving into your own place will be good for you."

"Tell me about it! James does nothing but cry; I feel like I haven't slept in years!"

The day before the court case, Hermione went into work with unwashed hair, a huge stack of work she hadn't completed and a whole list of niggling worries to be dealt with. She barged into the department, ignoring Mundungus' lewd comment and Zachary's morning greeting. When she finally managed to get into her office, it was only to find it already occupied. She dropped the papers in surprise, and felt tears of frustration well in her eyes.

"Why Lord? Why today, of all days, must you send them to me?" She asked aloud, bending to scoop up the papers.

"That isn't any way to greet your mother." Hermione stood up and let out an irritated huff.

"Is that all you're here for? To criticise my manners? Because if so, Lucius, I suggest you get the hell out of my office!"

The blonde wizard smile arrogantly from behind her desk and, if a stranger had entered, it would have looked like this was his office. Hermione shot him a look of utmost disdain, trying hard to ignore the loud wailing noise that seemed to accompany their presence.

"So testy!" He drawled. "Sit down, we have something to discuss." She scowled at him, but went and sat down anyway.

"Hermione, oh Hermione I'm so sorry!" Her mother sobbed, leaning on her husband for support. Both Narcissa and Felix were trying to comfort Wilhelmina, but it did not seem to be working.

"Have you finally realised that what you did was wrong? It's a little too late, though, I must say."

"What do you mean?" Lucius asked coolly.

"This is obviously some scheme of yours to try and dissuade me from going ahead tomorrow. It won't work – you're wasting your breath." Wilhelmina let out a melodramatic wail, causing everyone in the room to wince.

"How can you be so callous and cold? I'm your mother, and you're treating me like dirt!" Hermione scoffed at this comment.

"_I'm _callous? _I'm _cold? I made my feelings clear to you at Christmas, and I don't think it necessary to repeat myself."

Ignoring them, Hermione took the papers over to her desk and began to sort them. It was perhaps unwise to turn her back to Lucius, because suddenly she found a wand pressed to her neck. Instead of showing her fear, however, she laughed.

"Ah I see…guilt trips didn't work, so violence just might! You're a foolish man Lucius as, if anything, this will only add to my case! I'm sure the Wizengamot will be interested in how you came here to threaten me today, wouldn't you agree?"

"Be quiet, silly chit! You and your ridiculous campaign will ruin us; completely destroy everything that we have worked hard for! Do you want the destruction of your parents to be on your conscience?"

"It will be their fault and yours if you are 'ruined'. Draco and I were innocent, and you took advantage of us both! We're not in the wrong – you are!"

"I will hurt you, little girl! You know what I am capable of, you have witnessed it, and I will not spare you now…" Wilhelmina was bawling behind Hermione, and she could just see her father's ashen face; Lucius had obviously not filled them in on his part during the war against Voldermort.

"I don't care if you hurt me. In fact, I hope you do! Then they can lock you in Azkaban and throw away the key!" Lucius sneered at her and dug the wand further into her throat. Suddenly, however, the wand flew out of his hand and Hermione was free to wriggle away.

"Father, I thought you told me never to attack an unarmed witch! Terribly bad form."

Hermione spun around to see Draco leaning in the doorway. He looked nonchalant, aristocratic and thoroughly pissed off; Lucius' wand was in his left hand, and Draco's own was pointed at his father as a casual threat.

"Zachary owled me, told me that I had to come and keep control of my parents! Then I find you acting like unruly schoolchildren and threatening my wife! Although we are separated, I do not expect her to be treated this way."

Draco looked at her momentarily, and Hermione let out a breath that she did not know she was holding. He did not look like the Draco she had parted ways with, or the Draco who she had grown to like. He reminded her, very bluntly, of the boy he had been when they finished school: arrogant, supercilious and incorrigibly up himself. If it had not been for the small familliar glimmer in his eyes, she would have felt repulsed by what she saw before her.

"Where have you been, Draco? We have been trying to contact you!" Narcissa cried, breaking the silence. Hermione was surprised to hear that Draco had not been staying with his parents and that he had also been avoiding them. She looked at him questioningly.

"I have been staying with some friends who were kind enough to keep my location a secret." Lucius walked over and extended his hand out.

"My wand. Now."

"I shall give you your wand when you intend to leave which, if you have any sense, should be now." Lucius sneered, but beckoned to Narcissa.

"Come. Our son obviously does not want us here so we shall leave. I am sure all of this will be settled in court tomorrow." He stormed out of the room, snatching his wand as he went.

Now that they were alone, the room seemed even tenser than before. Hermione nervously fingered some papers on her desk, as Draco remained in the doorway. She looked up suddenly, and found that his eyes were trained on her.

"You look…" He started, before grimacing.

"Were you going to say 'well'?" Hermione asked smilingly. "Because I'm aware that I look like a street urchin. I woke up late, only to be confronted by our parents. They're delightful people; they have such unique interpersonal skills."

"Unique is one way to describe them. To say my father has always been so pedantic about manners, he really was lacking them today."

"You always refer to manners when you're nervous."

"And you always babble." They shared an uneasy smile, but the atmosphere had relaxed a little.

"Where have you been staying?"

"Funnily enough, with the Potters." Hermione gasped. "I have no idea why they extended the hand of kindness, but it appears that your friend Ginny has some fondness for me…"

"But she never said a word! I would have come to visit, if I'd known…"

"That was the sole reason she didn't tell you. We didn't exactly part ways happily, did we?" Discomfort pervaded the air once more, at the mention of their tempestuous argument. Would either of them apologise? Did either of them have to? "I've missed you." Draco whispered; his eyes wide with something akin to fright. Whenever Draco's emotions were too strong for him, he always reminded Hermione of a little boy – he looked like one just then. She supposed that the way he felt frightened him, just as much as the way _she_ felt terrified her…

"I've missed you too. The flat isn't the same when it's clean." He laughed awkwardly.

"I suppose that's all I'm good for, hm? Messing up…"

"I think I need to apologise." Hermione blurted quickly. "For the way I reacted that day. I should have trusted you when you told me about Pansy, and I…I needn't have shouted that way." Draco shook his head.

"No need for apologise, from you anyway, _I_ was in the wrong. I should have waited until you woke, told you where I was going, because I knew how Pansy would react. It wasn't a surprise, so I was wrong. And…" He looked a little ashamed. "I should have told you what happened between me and her, it was something you needed to know."

There didn't seem a need for any more words, as they closed the space between them and embraced warmly. As Hermione rested her head on his chest, she thought to herself that it was good to have him back. She had missed everything about him, from the blonde hairs in the shower to the smell of strong cologne. It was the sort of sentimental thought that she scarcely had, and the realisation of that made her heart thump. Pulling away, she took his hand in hers and smiled.

"Come to the flat this evening, for one last drink. We'll be divorced tomorrow, we need to celebrate." He looked, for a moment, as though he would accept. However, he shook his head slowly.

"I don't think that's such a good idea. As you once said to me, I'll regret it in the morning. See you tomorrow, Hermione, ready for the court case." He left the office, leaving Hermione staring after him with a feeling of relief. He was right; she too would have regretted it in the morning.


	18. Eighteen

Hermione woke the next day feeling both excited and a little nervous. Today was the big day; the press would be gathered, the Wizengamot would be listening, and she would have to face her parents and what they had done to her. It was a terrifying thought, but also one that thrilled her. It would signify the end to all of this, the end of her relationship with Draco…She shook herself to remove her mind from that line of thought, and climbed out of bed. She had to look good, respectable, _believable_, and so she had a lot of work ahead of her.

As Hermione began her toilette, Draco sat up in his bed with a black coffee and The Daily Prophet. There was a massive picture of him and Hermione on the front, and an article announcing that today was the day of the trial; they were even doing a special edition later in the day, to announce the result. As Draco took a sip, there came a knock on the door.

"Come in! I'm decent!" Ginny slipped into the room with James cradled in her arms. She smiled at him as she rocked the sleeping baby.

"I just wanted to check how you were, seeing as it's the trial today." Draco smiled and waved the paper.

"I'm quite confident. Zachary has built up a good defence, and we have a lot of evidence. I just hope the Wizengamot haven't been reached by my father…"

"Don't worry about it; they're not easily swayed like the school governors. I wonder how Hermione is feeling…"

"She seemed alright yesterday."

"You spoke to her? When? That's wonderful; she seemed miserable without you." Draco sighed. He would hate to disappoint the two women who had graciously opened their homes to him, yet it was necessary that he did. For his own sanity.

"She'll continue to be miserable, then. I'm planning on moving to France."

"_France_? Don't be ridiculous! Where have you got that silly idea from?"

"What's so ridiculous about it? I'll be forever hounded by my parents and the press here, but in France they don't even know who I am. It will be best for everyone."

"Everyone? Everyone except you and Hermione! Oh! You are both preposterous, pigheaded fools; I don't know why I put up with it!" Ginny glared at him, before turning on her heels and leaving the room.

Harry looked up when his wife entered the kitchen, muttering quietly under her breath. He put down his newspaper and looked at her inquisitively.

"What's the matter with you now?"

"It's Draco and Hermione! They're just…they're still in denial about everything! They've been pathetic without one another; Draco has just been moping around the house and Hermione was hardly better. Now the silly idiot is talking about upping and moving to France, leaving Hermione alone and dejected in that pokey flat! What are we going to do about it?"

"Nothing. They're grown adults, Ginny; they can do what they like. You sound like your mother, by the way."

"I do not sound like my mother!" James suddenly began bawling, so Ginny shot Harry a withering look.

"Now look what you've done! All you men, you're as bad as each other! I'm going upstairs to put James down, and _you'd better clean up before I get back down_!"

At Malfoy Manor, it was the wife who was calm and the husband who panicked. Narcissa Malfoy sipped her camomile tea with an air of nonchalance and relaxation, as Lucius ignored his toast and paced the dining room.

"We're going to win." He said. "There is not a chance they can beat us…is there?" Narcissa put the teacup down and smiled.

"Of course they'll beat us. If you hadn't insisted on using the curse, and bribing Hector then we wouldn't be in this mess. If anyone is going to take the knock for this, it's _you_."

"What do you mean? You aren't on my side?"

"No. I wouldn't be surprise if you got an Azkaban sentence and, as the papers are reporting, have to give half of our money to the children. Of course I'm not on your side." Lucius let out a pain filled moan, to which Narcissa simply took a sneaky bite of his toast.

Wilhelmina Divitis hadn't stopped crying for hours. She sat in the library with a handkerchief in hand and a small glass of brandy in the other. It was a little early to be drinking, she knew, but it was the only thing that helped her. Felix sat in the chair opposite, his eyes drier but no less upset. It had finally occurred to them that they had lost their daughter for good. Hermione would never forgive them for what they had put her through, and they had not been expecting it. Felix was mentally kicking himself for his folly; Lucius had never been good before, so why had he expected him to change? Wilhelmina was simply wallowing in self-pity, and the mess that she helped to create. Neither of them would be able to make it through the trial, and that is why they had drunk almost a full bottle of brandy between them.

A huge mob of press gathered outside of the courtroom, cameras and quills at hand. There hadn't been a hotter story since the defeat of Voldemort, and all of them were keen to get the best scoop. Rita Skeeter stood nearest the door, chatting idly with her photographer and wondering what Narcissa Malfoy would be wearing on the day she was finally defeated. The two women had been rivals at school; Rita a nosey and grovelling Ravenclaw, and Narcissa a secretive and haughty Slytherin. Rita had waited years for the devastation of Narcissa, and it had finally arrived. The huge double doors flung open, and the Malfoys rushed in, hiding their faces from the flashes and the jeers.

"No comment!" Lucius cried. "No comment!" Narcissa merely whimpered. Following them were Felix and Wilhelmina Divitis, looking reserved and sombre. None of the press bothered with them much, except a few who had become diehard followers of the returned purebloods. Finally, the people who everyone had been waiting for entered the room…

Hermione met Zachary and Draco in a small chamber off the lobby of the ministry. Zachary had slicked his hair back and was wearing his finest suit; he looked a little peaky, and he was constantly shuffling a pile of papers. Draco was blasé as usual, looking unfazed by the whole crazy situation. Hermione greeted Zachary with a warm hug, and pecked Draco affectionately on the cheek.

"Are we ready?" Zachary asked. "They're waiting for us." Hermione and Draco nodded, so they proceeded into the hallway outside of the courtroom. The flashes were blinding as they made their way through the crowds, trying hard not to trip over any eager photographer. There were so many questions being fired that it was hard to distinguish them, and Hermione had to resist shoving her fingers into her ears.

"It's like a circus!" Draco shouted. "I didn't expect this many people…"

"You're a blithering idiot, then!" Zachary hollered back, shaking off a journalist who had clung to his arm. Hermione spotted Harry and Ginny standing by the door and gave them a wave; they must have left James with Molly and Arthur.

"Good luck!" Ginny cried, clutching onto Harry's hand.

The silence of the courtroom was like bliss, compared to the hubbub of the hallway. Hermione was relieved to see that members of the public and journalists were not allowed into the room. They peered down at them snootily, as they took their seats, and Hermione noticed Hector Beaufort scuttle into the room nervously.

"Are you all present?" Colin asked from his high seat. "Mr Lucius Malfoy, Mrs Narcissa Malfoy, Mr Felix Divitis, Mrs Wilhelmina Divitis, Mr Draco Malfoy, Mrs Hermione Malfoy, Mr Zachary Joss and Mr Hector Beaufort?"

"Yes, sir." They all replied.

"Excellent, we shall proceed. Divorce hearing of the third of February." Said Colin, looking to the scribe by his side. "Into the desired divorce of Mr and Mrs Draco Malfoy. Also, regarding the supposed crimes of Mr Lucius Malfoy and of former ministry official Mr Hector Beaufort. May I proceed?" There came mumblings of assent from the other members of the Wizengamot, and Colin cleared his throat. "The charges against the first accused, Lucius Malfoy, are as follows…"

Outside in the stuffy hallway, the press and gathered followers shared speculation on how they thought the trial would end. Some people supported Lucius Malfoy, but the majority was in favour of Hermione and Draco. They mumbled amongst themselves, as Ginny Weasley fanned her face with an unused nappy from her handbag.

"How much longer do you think they'll be?" She asked. "They've been in there for three hours!" Harry shrugged.

"It could be another ten hours for all we know, it depends on how they're feeling." Ginny let out a sigh, just as the main door to the courtroom burst open. The crowds congregated around, looking up eagerly at Colin who had entered the hallway.

"Silence please!" He announced, and the room instantly fell quiet. "The results of the trial are: Lucius Malfoy – guilty of all charges. Hector Beaufort – guilty of all charges. Hermione and Draco Malfoy – officially divorced and awarded a large sum of compensation from both guilty parties. Narcissa Malfoy, Felix Divitis and Wilhelmina Divitis have also contributed to the compensation for being party to the crimes committed."

"How is Lucius Malfoy guilty?" An irate man cried. "He did what any self-respecting pureblood should do, the marriage contract isn't illegal."

"No, the marriage contract itself is not illegal. However, it became so when Mr Malfoy employed the use of a pain-giving curse to manipulate Miss Divitis and Mr Draco Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy will spend up to 6 months in Azkaban prison, and Mr Hector Beaufort will be undertaking community service for three months: scrubbing bedpans in St Mungo's. Thank you."

Colin retired back into the courtroom, and Hermione and Draco came out into the crowds. They stopped for a few moments, answering questions for the reporters, before moving over to Ginny and Harry. They congratulated one another with warm hugs, and Ginny was clapping her hands ecstatically.

"How much did you get?" She asked cheekily. "Was it a lot?"

"More than Zachary thought, actually." Draco said.

"1.5 million galleons! I just couldn't believe it!" Hermione squealed.

"Bloody hell!" Harry cried.

"But it's a secret; we don't want to disclose how much we got."

"Of course." He said. "Congratulations, though! Do you mind if we head off? When we left James he had thrown up all over Ron, so I don't think he'll be too happy with us…" Hermione laughed.

"I don't mind at all! Thank you for the support." She kissed them both before they left the hallway, a few photographers taking the opportunity to get some snapshots of Harry.

The press was beginning to disperse, and so Zachary finally came out of the courtroom. He was flushed and sweaty, but looked incredibly pleased with himself.

"You were fantastic!" Hermione cried. "Unbelievable! They couldn't have ignored a thing you said; everything was spot on."

"Thanks. I'm bloody glad we won!"

"Me too." Draco added, grinning. "We want to give you a little something; some of the money as a thank you."

"I couldn't accept it. In fact, I don't want it. You can take me to the pub, though, and buy me a pint or two. I have something else to celebrate!"

"What?" Hermione asked.

"Mr Creevey approached me and offered me a job in the Department of Law! Apparently, half of the lawyers in there aren't as good as me. My pay will be doubled!" Hermione squealed again and threw her arms around her, former, boss.

"That's simply…I don't have the words! I'm just so happy for you! We'll miss you though, in the department."

"I'm sure they'll find a decent enough replacement, and you'll forget me in no time." He winked at them both. "Anyway, Melanie will be dying to hear how it went…so I'd better get home! Come over for dinner again some time?"

When Zachary departed, the hallway was empty except for Hermione, Draco and one final photographer who was fiddling with him camera. Draco turned to her and smiled, shrugging his shoulders.

"I guess this is it then! No more you and me; it's finally over."

"It doesn't seem real, does it? 5 Months have passed in a flash." He took her hand and squeezed it.

"I'm _really_going to miss you." He said sadly. "It makes me wish I wasn't going…" Hermione felt as though her heart had fallen into her stomach. He seemed so morose when he should have been thrilled.

"Going where?"

"To France. I'm moving there, going to buy a little place by the sea…" He avoided looking at her, choosing to inspect the floor or the walls instead. Hermione wanted to be sick; this was not something she had thought would happen. She had expected them to divorce, and then for things to carry on almost as normal. He couldn't leave her. How could she handle Draco being so far away? She _needed_him.

"You can't!" She cried her eyes wide. "You can't leave me again! After everything we've been through, you're just going to leave?"

"Well there's nothing left for me here. My parents will never speak to me again, Pansy will hate me now too and you…" He sighed. "Well you have your Weasley again; I never could see what you saw in him."

"Why don't you like Ron? You took to Harry well enough."

"He's ginger." Hermione scowled. "And besides…you like him much more than me." Hermione's heart picked up a little when she heard the jealousy in his voice. It was a promising thought; perhaps he still wanted her...maybe...

"Honestly!" She cried "You're all the same, men; always vying for attention, and never content when you get it! I haven't _liked_Ron in years; we tried for a little while but…well you've seen how he gets, I couldn't put up with it. _You_on the other hand…"

"What about me?" He asked cockily, grinning suddenly. Their heart picked up speed simultaneously, and without knowing it they seemed to move closer. It was like something drew them together, something they had obstinately tried to fight.

"Well it's completely irrational, and I doubt that it will work for long. We'll argue terribly, I'm certain of that, yet...oh must I say it?" She pleaded. He nodded. "Fine. I think, strange as it may seem, that I may just _love_you." He laughed triumphantly, but his face suddenly fell grave.

"Wait a minute, madam! I know that you have a terribly handsome husband who, given half the chance, would kill a man if he came within ten feet of you!" Hermione giggled.

"Haven't you heard? I recently divorced him, and I have an interest in someone else…" Draco grinned and leaned in to kiss her, but Hermione stopped him, placing a firm hand on his chest.

"What's wrong?" He asked. He looked crestfallen by the rejection, and Hermione let out a quiet giggle.

"You have a harridan of a wife who will scratch my eyes out when she hears what you nearly did!"

"She was a positive strumpet, you know." Draco replied in a low, growl. "But we're divorced, so I am free and single Miss Divitis."

"Miss Granger, if you please! I've had that name for 21 years of my life; I'm not changing it because my parents say I have to."

"That's fine by me, I prefer it. May I kiss you now?" She shook her head. "And why not?"

"You have to tell me bluntly too. I'm a dense creature, unable to understand anything if it isn't put plainly into words." He sighed and leant towards her.

"I don't share your view that we will argue terribly; we'll remain on fine form as long as you carry on making my breakfast..." She swatted him, but he dodged out of the way. "Very well... I love you too." She wrapped her arms around his neck and sighed.

"You can kiss me now."

The kiss signified everything they had been through together being wiped away. The years of hatred through school, the angry exchanges at the beginning of their relationship and the bliss they almost shared. It also represented everything they wanted, a life together without the vicious control of their parents. Once they pulled away, Draco held out his hand for her.

"My lady?" Hermione took it and gave it a squeeze.

"_Not_your lady." They started to walk down the corridor, smiling happily at one another. "I may love you." She said. "But I'll never marry you, you know." He grinned.

"I wouldn't want to marry you. It didn't work the first time, why should it work a second?" Hermione kissed him on the cheek.

"I'm glad; it would be awful if you didn't agree."

As they walked, a huge flash came from behind them, lighting up the entire hallway. Hermione rolled her eyes and Draco laughed.

"They don't know when to stop! We aren't even that interesting…"

"Oh, certainly not!" Hermione replied sarcastically. "Because nothing we did in the past few months was vaguely interesting at all. Not the forced marriage, the curse, the divorce…"

"Alright, alright…I see your point!" He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, drawing her close to him. "What shall we do now then?"

"I'd like to go back to the flat…if that's alright with you."

"Definitely. Does that offer of a drink still stand?" She grinned up at him and gave him a peck.

"Of course. It always will."


	19. Epilogue

They lived happily ever after, of course, although their relationship was not an ordinary one.

True to their word, they never married; choosing instead to live together as Miss Granger and Mr Malfoy. It was not what was expected of them, being from pureblood families, but neither Draco nor Hermione cared much for other people's expectations. Their life was an odd combination of muggle amenities, magic and some of the more sensible pureblood traditions. Draco even occasionally wore jeans, but only under extreme duress from Hermione. They regularly visited the Potters, and it was even rumoured by some that Draco and Harry were actually firm friends – it was later vehemently denied in the press, much to Hermione's chagrin.

Three years following their divorce, Hermione fell pregnant and was plied with books about babies from Ginny. She and Harry had had another child; a second boy who went by the name of Leon, and looked remarkably like Ginny. It was not an easy pregnancy, and Hermione regularly compared herself to a cow; rather than correcting his partner, Draco merely laughed. Their first child came into the world on Christmas Day, at exactly the time they should have been hosting their first ever Christmas dinner. Draco didn't really mind, but Hermione was furious that her cooking had gone to waste – it soon dispersed, however, when she was properly introduced to her daughter Catriona. The little girl later became incredibly fond of her 'Uncle Ronald', who frequently came to the flat; he often quarreled with her daddy, which Catriona found much more amusing than her mother did.

Things were not always as pleasant for Draco and Hermione. They did not reconcile with their parents for many years, until Narcissa Malfoy passed away unexpectedly. Draco managed to speak to her before she died, but he was forever guilty for not having made up sooner. Hermione, as a result of this, spoke to her parents again, but their relationship was never the same.

Draco and Hermione also had rip-roaring rows of passionate anger and dogged stubbornness; Hermione had a tendency to throw things, and Draco threatened to leave her more than once. After Catriona was born their disputes became whispered and hushed, but no less volatile or furious. They never lasted long though. Draco would clean up Hermione's mess or unpack his things, whilst she opened the cabinet and pulled out a bottle.

"Would you like a drink?" She would ask him, to which Draco would nod. They would share the bottle of whiskey until it emptied and refilled itself, before slipping it away and vowing to never need it again. Draco would lean over to Hermione and whisper in her ear, his voice tender and low.

"Life appears to me too short to be spent in nursing animosity or registering wrongs." They would kiss and go to bed, the argument instantly forgotten.

During the sweltering summer before Catriona's first year at Hogwarts, Hermione bundled her family into the car and took them for an early morning drive. She stopped at a small and picturesque village, complete with a green, several small cottages and a quaint parish church. Draco looked at her inquisitively, as Catriona rushed off to watch a game of cricket being played on the green.

"Where are we?" He asked her quietly. She smiled at him sheepishly, and took his hand in hers.

"My home." The family walked up to the church, through the wrought iron gate that did not squeak. Hermione felt a pang of sadness, but supposed that everything could not remain the same; she had learnt that the hard way. Inside, the Sunday morning Eucharist was just about to begin and they took a seat at the back of the church. It was a lovely service, and Hermione was disappointed when it ended.

They waited at the back of the church; Hermione holding onto Catriona's hand and Draco looking around with mild interest. Hermione stepped forward when a very elderly lady was helped down the aisle, smiling shyly at her.

"Marjorie? Marjorie Hardy?" The old lady blinked at her, before her face broke into a grin.

"You have returned again, Hermione! But I am sorry that it has taken you many years."

"I'm sorry too; I shouldn't have waited so long."

"Who is this?" Marjorie asked, motioning to her daughter. "She looks remarkably like you dear, but that blonde hair is certainly not yours…"

"My daughter, Catriona Granger Malfoy." Catriona pulled a face at her mother, before stepping forward and extending her hand.

"Hello! My full name is Catriona _Martha_ Granger Malfoy, actually, but mother never says it all!" Marjorie let out a large chuckle, and shook the girl's hand enthusiastically.

"She is just like you; hopelessly bold. Is she anything like her father?"

"Oh yes." Hermione replied, looking fondly at her daughter who was looking haughtily at a nearby girl. "He was just the same at her age, but hopefully she will grow out of it as he did." Draco wandered over and placed hand on Hermione's shoulder, smiling at her pleasantly.

"Introduce me." He whispered.

"This is Draco Malfoy." Hermione said politely, motioning to him. "Draco, this is Marjorie Hardy."

"A pleasure to meet you, madam." He took the old lady's hand and kissed it delicately.

"He's a handsome one, charming too!" Draco grinned cockily and winked at Marjorie.

"It has often been said!"

"_Daaad_!" Catriona whined, blushing. "Don't be cheeky to Mrs Hardy! Have you forgotten your manners?" Hermione grinned, shaking in disbelief at her daughter's actions.

"It does not matter child, I am used to men like your father! My husband was just the same; dangerously flirtatious, but tamed by his wife." Draco bent down and kissed Hermione on the cheek, as the three females laughed. "I take it my advice was good, that the two of you are still together?"

"They're divorced, actually." Catriona said matter-of-factly. "But still madly in love with one another. Mother says it's an interesting story, but that I'm too young to know. Father thinks she's ridiculous to keep it from me, but he won't go against her."

"Divorced but still in love?" Marjorie declared. "How strange!"

"It is a little, but that's the way we prefer it." Hermione looked up at Draco, and their eyes met. It was as though, for a moment, they were realising all over again how much they meant to each other. Draco smiled.

"In vain have I struggled. It will never do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you_."_

"That's Mr Rochester, isn't it?" Marjorie asked, smiling at their romance. Draco and Hermione laughed, their eyes still locked on one another.

He let out a sigh and whispered to Hermione:

"No. This time, I believe, it really is Mr Darcy."

* * *

_Author's Note: __There are two quotes in this chapter."Life appears to me too short to be spent in nursing animosity or registering wrongs." and "In vain have I struggled. It will never do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you__." The first_ from Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte and the other, as correctly identified by Draco, from Mr Darcy of Pride and Prejudice fame! 

_____Also, i think now is a good time to mention something about the names i've used for several characters. I realise that names with meanings are, mostly, synonymous to Mary-Sues. However, JK Rowling herself has given names with meanings, and i thought it best to continue. To begin with, Mr & Mrs Divits! I do not speak latin, but i have been told that 'Divitis' means riches or wealth; the perfect name for a pureblood family i think! Their first names, however, were chosen simply because i like them. The offspring of the Potters and HG/DM also have specifically chosen names. Leon means 'lion', which i thought fitting for a son of Harry, who is a 'true Gryffindor'. Catriona means 'pure' (Hermione picked it) and Martha means 'lady of the house' (Draco picked it). Her two names put together reads 'pure lady of the house', which i suspect is why Hermione never says her full name. ;) Anyway, enough with names, and onto thank yous._  



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